


The War Inside

by Natashasolten



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vinnie wrestles with his growing feelings for Sonny while learning that Sonny himself has started to question his own choices in life and may be feeling an urge to run.  Both men face off only to realize they think more alike than they ever realized, and may actually share the same dreams of a different future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The War Inside

**Author's Note:**

> This novella was previously published in my 2010 zine entitled "The War Inside." I decided it finally needed to be archived along with my other Wiseguy stories. I have waited two years to archive this in fairness to the few people who actually purchased the zine.

THE WAR INSIDE – PREQUEL

 

“How can you be in Hell while you are  
in my heart?”

\--Orlando Bloom

 

“Take care what you ask of me  
because I can’t say no to you.”

\--Amy Lee, “Good Enough”

 

 

SEPTEMBER, 1988

 

“I’m getting the impression that you enjoy these handcuffs a lot more than the OCB might think,” Frank McPike said. Face pressed against the back of Vinnie’s neck, the smaller man’s breath tickled his ear. The metal bracelets tightened as Frank grabbed his upper arm and steered him ungently toward the gray sedan parked alongside the sleek red Porsche Vinnie had just vacated.

“Aw, come on, Frank. What are you doing? I was just on my way to a meeting with Sonny. If he finds out I’ve been arrested again, he might get suspicious.”

Frank shoved him into the passenger side of the sedan and slammed the door. Vinnie rolled his eyes. A crowd had started to gather on the sidewalk and he squirmed. The handcuffs were really tight this time. He sat forward to try to release the pressure on his wrists.

The driver’s door opened and Frank slid in and started the engine. He was obviously in one of his moods again and Vinnie decided to keep quiet until he chose to open up.

They drove down to the end of the street, u-turned and headed back up. Frank ran a red light. Vinnie still said nothing.

For several minutes Frank drove, making random turns. When he hit the highway he opened up to 80 mph. Still he didn’t speak.

Vinnie fidgeted with the cuffs again, trying to find a more comfortable position. The cuffs dug into his wrists and the tips of his fingers began to tingle. He sighed heavily, glancing at Frank, whose gaze remained on the road, ignoring him.

It was a little game they played sometimes. Who would be the first to give in, say ‘uncle.’ Only, Frank cheated. He had the superior rank, the hardness that comes mostly from working on the force for so many years, and the cuffs with which he was none too careful when using them on Vinnie.

He glanced at Frank again, gauging the other man’s attitude and not liking the conclusion. Something major was up or Frank wouldn’t have been so rough.

“Okay, Frank,” Vinnie said. “Uncle. You win. Talk to me.”

Frank pretended not to hear.

“Can you at least pull over and take off these cuffs? They’re killing me.”

Nothing.

“Frank, come on, man. What’s going on?

“You’re off the Steelgrave case, that’s what’s going on.” He made an abrupt exit off the highway and a hard left. They were in a residential area by then, middle class, sidewalks, grass, kids playing.

“Why for God’s sake? I’m in deep. Things are going great.”

“You’re in over your head and you don’t even know it. It’s over. No arguments.”

“But, Frank….”

“No arguments!”

His wrists throbbed. “At least tell me why.” The frustration began to build, all the hurt Frank had thrown at him when things didn’t go right, the pain of his cousin Danny’s death. He’d never known, even while training for the OCB, even while doing time in prison that he had so much raw passion inside him; he felt lately as if he were made of feeling, all untrained, untried emotions that daily forced him to confront his own morality, his loyalty, his so unexpected, so intense friendship with the enemy, Sonny Steelgrave.

“I’ve seen it happen before,” Frank said. “You get in too deep, you become what you fight. You start to care about the guys you bust. It’s too dangerous.”

“When did I ever say that? What makes you think….”

“I know. I have eyes. I can see. Vince, it’s happened before and it’s happening to you. I recognize the signs. And I’m not going to let it happen. You’ll blow the deal and get yourself killed.”

“How? How have I made you think that?”

The car screeched to a halt. Vinnie jerked forward, then back, his weight pressing hard against his now numb hands. He let out an angry shout of pain. More annoyed than hurt, he asked, “Why are you doing this?”

Frank ignored his outburst. “Tell me something,” he said, turning in his seat and leaning one arm against the steering wheel. “If I told you to go get Steelgrave right now, arrest him, take him in, would you do it?”

“Well, why would I do that? It’d ruin everything we’ve got so far.”

“Answer the question, Vince. Would you do it?”

Vinnie faced forward, shrugged. “That’s our goal, isn’t it?”

Franks voice softened. “Have you really thought it out that far? Have you actually pictured that final act; you cuffing him, the look of betrayal, the utter devastation in his eyes, the anger…. He’ll want to kill you. He’ll hate you more than his most vile enemy. I’ve seen you work. I’ve seen you with him. You’re good, Vince, real good, but Sonny’s good, too, and he’s gotten into you somehow. I don’t know what’s happened but my intestines tell me this isn’t playing out right. You’re in the middle. And when it’s decision time you’re not going to have any warning. Could you kill him, Vince? Would you?”

“What is this? I’m guilty until proven innocent? I’ve failed before I even get the chance to prove myself? What’s happened that you don’t trust me? Frank, you’re not making sense.”

“And you’re not listening.” Frank opened his door and got out. He came around to the passenger side, yanked open the second door and pulled Vinnie to his feet.

“Ouch, Frank. Take it easy. I’m not a wiseguy, remember? Remember?” He looked down at himself. His black silk suit was rumpled. The gray overcoat he liked to wear had worked its way off his shoulders and now hung tangled at his elbows.

Frank nodded toward a small, one-story white house with double doors and a neat, grass-lined concrete path leading up to the front porch. “This is the safe-house where you’re going to stay until this all blows over. It shouldn’t be for more than a couple months.”

“What?” Vinnie frowned, tossing his head to get the thick hair out of his eyes. “I’m not staying here. And you’re not taking me off the case. So, would you mind telling me what this is all about? And while you’re at it, these cuffs are breaking my wrists.”

“Into the house first,” Frank said.

Vinnie said nothing as he walked up the path. Once they were inside, Frank moved behind him and quickly undid the cuffs. “I didn’t know they were so tight,” he mumbled. But he did not apologize.

Vinnie walked toward a couch in what appeared to be the living room, rubbing at his wrists and shaking the feeling back into his hands. Slowly, he turned and faced Frank. The passion inside him had abated for the moment, the intense emotions had scattered to their respective corners. His thoughts stayed still as he spoke. “So, tell me what’s going on and why you suddenly think I’m no longer qualified to work on this case.” With a dignity and control that came only from daily dealings with gangsters and mob-kings, Vinnie seated himself on the edge of the couch.

Frank smiled and sat opposite him in an easy chair. “I’ve been worried about you ever since Sonny gave you that surprise birthday present in the back of his limo. It’s what you wanted most. Sonny gave you what you asked for, what I couldn’t give you. Kiki Vanno. Dead with a red ribbon tied around his neck.” He paused, gauging Vinnie’s lack of reaction. “I think there’s more than a professional bond between you two. And that, my friend, interferes with your job and my job.” He looked down, then up again, eyes questioning, or waiting for a response.

“But gaining Sonny’s personal confidence is my job.” Vinnie met Frank’s stare, then reached up and rubbed the right side of his face, pushing back his bangs in the process. He allowed a half-smile to show and said, “If I told you I’d kill Sonny right now, on your order, would you let me go?”

Resting his chin on his hand, Frank said, “I don’t think you’d do it.”

“You want me to kill Sonny?” He raised his eyebrows to emphasize how serious he was. “Do you? All right, fine.” He stood, reached around to his left side and pulled out his gun. He flipped the cartridge out, then in again. “I’m ready.” He held the gun down by his side. “Is it what you want? Murder? I’ll kill him as he sleeps. Satisfied?”

“That’s not the idea and you know it,” Frank said calmly.

The passion surfaced without warning. “Don’t patronize me, Frank!” He could feel the burning behind his eyes again. His eyes, two features he couldn’t hide that gave away his feelings all too well. He’d been cursed with these eyes, light blue, sensitive to light, to pain, to pleasure. Anything intense affected them, and they’d burn until he couldn’t see, until he had to turn away, let them rest behind the darkness of closed lids. And the pain in his eyes came on a lot more since Danny had died. Even Sonny noticed, commenting one evening, ‘You know why I trust you, Vinnie? Because you show your every thought and feeling in your eyes. Because if you ever betrayed me you wouldn’t be able to hide it from me. I’d see it there in those baby blues and I’d know. I’d know.’ At which point Vinnie had turned away, eyes closing as Sonny’s maniacal laughter wound its way around him like a rope, or like arms that give a too tight hug.

“Listen to me, Frank. If you’re trying to tell me I can’t do my job, you’re wrong. I had nothing to do with Kiki Vanno getting killed. Hell, I didn’t even know Sonny knew he was the guy who’d killed Danny. I didn’t tell him. He just found out.”

“I want to know,” Frank said, “if push came to shove you could hold your own. Sonny’s not going to go down without a fight. Could you fight him? I’m not questioning your ethics. I’m asking, how close is this friendship? How vulnerable are you to an enemy that treats you like a brother, who listens to your advice, who protects you, who kills for you? Betrayal may be a way of life for the bad guys, Vince, but you’re not a bad guy. And I think Sonny has used the most powerful weapon ever on you.”

“What?” Vinnie was shaking his head.

“Love. And how do you fight that?”

Vinnie scowled. “This is crazy. Frank, I’m doing everything you taught me to do. I’ve been through every training program. You were there for most of it. If you didn’t think I was the right man for this operation, then why the hell did you send me in? And why the hell have you left me on the case for so long?”

“You are the right man. But you have one fatal flaw. And I didn’t see it or believe it until now. You see the good in people. You look for what’s redeemable. You can fight with the best of them. Graduated top of your class. But you’re also one of the most gentle people I know. The war inside you is on, and the only thing I can think of to save you and everyone a lot of grief is to remove you from the scene. I should’ve seen it sooner.”

“No way. You’re wrong. My reaction time is as good as it ever was, probably better working around these paranoid gangster types. Sonny’s a murderer. I know that. You know that. He’s not going to get away with it. That’s why I’m there. My memory isn’t that sour. Though I hope it doesn’t come to it, I’d kill if I had to in self-defense. And I have. And if it’s Sonny pulling the trigger in my face, you think I’d hesitate? You think I care so little for my own life? You thought you knew me. Frank, you don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I know you,” Frank said, nodding. “Too well. I know I’ll regret it if I send you back.”

“No, you won’t, Frank. You won’t regret it.”

“Oh, but you will. Vince, you don’t even know the half of what’s going to happen. Too many pretty cars, pretty suits, golden towers. You don’t have the concept.”

Vinnie clenched his jaw tight before answering. “I have nightmares every night. You think I’m living in some pretty made up world and believing it? What kind of nightmares do you have? Huh? ‘Cause sometimes I really wonder about you. And I think you enjoy putting those cuffs on me every time we bust someone. I think you like seeing me sit in jail with a bunch of rapists and murderers and junkies.”

“Okay.” Frank threw up his hands. “You’ve convinced me. You’re sane enough to continue this little crime play. The conversation’s over. I’ll send you back in.”

Suspicious now, Vinnie sat back down. “Is this all you brought me here for? This conversation? These questions that you already know the answers to?”

“I really thought Steelgrave was getting to you, getting under your skin. Personally, I mean. I planned to pull you out. But you’ve convinced me otherwise. Not that he hasn’t gotten under your skin, but that you’re still rational enough to tell the bad guys from the good guys. Other agents might not be able to. But then other agents have never gotten as far as Steelgrave’s right hand, either. I’ll let you go. But you’re going to have to remember this isn’t going to have a happy ending any way you look at it.”

“I know that,” Vinnie said, and glanced away. “I know. And I have to live with that every single day. You helped train me. You told me I was the best. Let me prove that to you.” He looked up, his eyes clear and steady.

“I’m making a mistake. But then again, maybe not. It’s what you’re trained to do.”

“So, can I go now?”

Frank nodded.

Vinnie stood, rearranging his overcoat. “Nice talking to you.”

“Need a ride?”

“Nope.”

“Be careful.”

“I always am.”

 

Now when Vinnie looked at Sonny, Frank’s words phantom-whispered through his mind. I think Sonny has used the most powerful weapon on you. Love.

Could you kill him? Would you?

In truth, Sonny had given him everything Frank had said, trust, a free voice, friendship, even a type of love. And it hadn’t come all that easily. Sonny was flighty, not easily pinned down. Who could ever say they truly knew him? At the moment, Vinnie was his closest and only confidant. Could he really kill the man?

He watched him working behind his oblong, glass desk. A phone call had interrupted them which was normal. There were continual interruptions whenever he was with Sonny. Sonny was a busy and powerful man. Everyone wanted things from him – time, money, deals, a brush with the charisma that made him the prince, the king he was.

He was a bright light possessed by an encroaching darkness that fascinated and often frightened Vinnie. How could such a powerful, intelligent man flirt so easily with danger, with an underworld that constantly reminded a man of his own mortality? It was an addiction, a compulsion. Vinnie recognized that, though without fully understanding it, and found himself actually admiring the strength and character of Sonny, while abhorring the nature that had taken him over. And yet he was not one to sit in judgment over others, thus the notion that Sonny himself was a victim of this nightmare of an empire he’d inherited from his father and brother, Dave, was a notion he could not dismiss. Affection for Sonny wormed its way through him, leaving trails of guilt. But there was no crime in liking a man, was there? Why must one always hate one’s enemies? He’d asked himself that question again and again.

The thought of Sonny’s eventual death more than disturbed him. He wasn’t acting every time he covered the man’s back, every time he searched a stranger for weapons, or shot at a guy who was aiming at Sonny. The reflex was a natural one, and the accompanying thought honest. Protect. And that was what he did, and what he was. Protector. Counselor. Brother. Friend. He tried to imagine that bright, but dark light put out. Dead. His friend, lifeless, still, the brown eyes never again scheming with the intensity of a genius, never again narrowed in concern over a problem of Vinnie’s, never again laughing at his own warped but honest jokes, never again meeting Vinnie’s gaze as they traded secret thoughts.

Sonny was a strange man, strong and discerning, judgmental and vengeful, but he was a gentleman, too. Frank had been right. Vinnie always discovered the good in others, saw it without really looking. And Sonny was no exception to this rule. Now how could he betray this one man he loved, and hated, and loved?

He knew one thing without doubt. He did not want to see Sonny die. And he would use everything within his power to prevent that.

Sonny deserved a chance, at least, to listen to reason. He deserved some kind of loyalty and friendship in return for trust, for confidence. And Vinnie would give it.

“Breathe deep the gathering gloom.”

Vinnie looked up. “What?” He hadn’t noticed that Sonny’d hung up the phone.

Sonny cocked his head, the light in his eyes dancing. They were unreadable for the moment, mysterious. “It’s a line from an old song I liked when I was a kid. You’re looking morbid.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember? What I’ve said before is true. I can read right through you.”

“Well that’s not fair then, because I can’t read you at all,” Vinnie said.

“Sure you can. Do you try?” He rocked back and forth in his desk chair, a smirk that was Sonny’s version of a smile crinkling the side of his mouth. He was too young of a man to have that look, too pretty. But the job required a certain rebellious nature, his environment insisting on cynicism and hardness for survival. “I’m really a very simple man.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“What’s so complex about survival of the fittest? I make the right choices and I live, rather comfortably I might add. I don’t back down from what I want. I work until I get it, my way. It’s all very simple when you look at it. Don’t give in. Don’t be afraid to jump in and live life.”

“But at the expense of others sometimes…?” He wondered as he spoke if his words had been a mistake.

Sonny’s gaze never left his as he answered. “So, my shadow has a conscience.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Life is lived at the expense of everyone and everything. We’re one gigantic race of users. It’s human nature. Maybe I’m just more honest about it than others. And I think I’m more generous, too. Not one of the people on my payroll makes less than triple the current minimum wage.” He got up then, his chair squeaking back and forth at the unexpected move. He came toward Vinnie, stopped within a foot of him and rested his hip on the edge of the gleaming desk. “What’s the matter with you today, Vinnie? Feeling used and abused?”

“No.” He hesitated, Frank’s words coming back again. Have you actually pictured that final act, you cuffing him, the look of betrayal, the utter devastation in his eyes? He’ll want to kill you. He’ll hate you more than his most vile enemy…. “No,” Vinnie said again. “At least not by you.”

Sonny laughed abruptly. “I pay you well enough to say that, don’t I? But it’s all the same in the end. We use each other. Human nature. I’m using you for protection, advice…. You’re using me for…for what, I wonder? The money?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Power? Is that what you want?” He leaned closer, eyes narrowing as their gazes closed in on each other. “Let’s see if I can read you now. Power isn’t your game, is it? No, you’re too smart for that, though you hide it well. Are you using me, Vinnie?”

Vinnie’s heart rate stepped up. He averted his eyes on instinct, realizing only seconds afterward that the trust he’d earned from Sonny might be entirely lost by that one uncontrollable mannerism.

But instead of the suspicion Vinnie expected, Sonny reached out and clapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here for awhile, have some fun. I think we could both use a break.” He grinned as Vinnie looked back up, eyes questioning. “The walls are closing in. Let’s go for a drive.”

Now it was Vinnie’s turn to be suspicious. Solo drives with Sonny, when they weren’t strictly with or for female company, often ended up as one-way tickets for the passenger. Making a joke of it, Vinnie said, “Will I be coming back?”

The grin on Sonny’s face faded. “I’m hurt. I trust you…. Why don’t you trust me?”

“You’re the one with the power,” he answered.

“Fine.” Sonny turned away and went behind his desk. “You don’t want to go anywhere? That’s fine. We don’t have to. We can stay right here if you want. We can work. We can go crazy. We can….”

“All right, all right,” Vinnie interrupted, allowing a small smile to escape. “It was a joke. I’m sorry. Don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m never sensitive,” Sonny replied gruffly, leafing through some papers. Finally he looked up. “What is it with you? Are you really afraid of being alone with me? ‘Cause if that’s the case just tell me now.”

“No,” Vinnie insisted.

“Just get it out in the open. Because I want to know.”

“No,” Vinnie said again. “No.”

Sonny kept talking. “If you have some problem, I want to get it out in the open now. I don’t like working with people who have problems with me.”

“I don’t have a problem,” Vinnie said hotly, the inner door slowly opening, the passion stirring without warning. “It was a joke, okay? So I have a bad sense of humor. Sue me.”

Their eyes met. “I don’t sue my friends,” Sonny finally said, voice as matter-of-fact as if he were quoting his accountant’s financial reports.

Vinnie frowned, then started to laugh. “You do too and you know it.” His laughter relaxed him, turned to a rare form of pleasure as Sonny joined in. He was laughing with demons and damned if he wasn’t enjoying it.

He was in Hell now, living it, breathing it. He’d come to judge and betray the Devil. At first Vinnie felt superior, with the law and government backing him. At first he’d felt better than other men, the men of the streets. But now as he stood before one of the largest kingpins of Atlantic City, laughing with him, trusted with secrets and an honor not given lightly by one of Sonny’s caliber, he felt at most equal, and sometimes as if he were completely out of his league. And this man was no devil, he was a human being, living the way he knew how, surviving, beating all the odds and all the other human beings at their pathetic games of cop and robber, banker and investor.

“You’re breathing that gloom again,” Sonny said, interrupting his sudden train of thought.

“Nah, I’m just wondering where we’re going to go on that drive.”

“You really want to get out of here for awhile?”

“Sure. And not tell anyone where we’ll be.”

Sonny tapped his desk with his fingers. “I can take the rest of the afternoon off. We’ll drive until we drop and then find the best steakhouse and order the biggest, rarest, juiciest…”

“Medium for me,” Vinnie interrupted.

“Medium it is, then. We’ll stuff our faces and forget about this place for awhile, forget about big business, imports, exports, all the things that make this wonderful world spin. We’ll forget about who’s out to kill us and who’s not, and why there’s no trust in the world anymore.”

“Sounds good to me,” Vinnie said, intrigued all the more despite himself. If Frank knew about this he’d have a tantrum, Vinnie thought; and as he imagined his OCB field supervisor’s reaction, a smile twisted his lips into a smirk not unlike Sonny’s infamous, icy smile.

 

They took Vinnie’s red Porsche at Sonny’s insistence. Vinnie drove. Sonny, head back against the seat and tilted toward his own side window, was unusually silent. He wore dark glasses and Vinnie couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. The radio played songs like “That’s All,” “Dead Man’s Party,” and “Hounds of Love.” After awhile, Vinnie turned it off.

“Hey.” He looked quickly from the road to Sonny, then back again. “You awake?”

Sonny slowly turned his head, the dark glasses reflecting gold and white from the afternoon light. “Yeah.”

“Where’re we going? New York?”

Sonny shrugged. “I like driving, keeping on the move. Let’s just go until the road ends, or until we’re hungry, whichever comes first.”

“Well, we’re headed for NYC but I can make a few turns so we’re not on such a direct route.”

“It’s your car, pretty boy. You can play with it however you want.”

Pretty boy? This is a test, Vinnie thought, then changed his mind. He kept a casual hand on the steering wheel, his left elbow perched on the armrest on the door. Just as he was feeling all right his stomach tightened, a reflex of paranoia…or guilt. They had just passed the turn off that led to Frank’s neighborhood.

“So, tell me more about yourself, Vinnie,” Sonny said abruptly, a clue of a smile wrestling with the corners of his mouth.

“What do you want to know?” He shifted in his seat; the car slowed. “Let me rephrase that. What don’t you already know about me?”

“I’m sure there are a lot of things. Every man has his secrets. Every man has a hidden self. My father taught me that.”

“That must be a big problem for you if you believe it. You can never trust anyone. But me, well, I don’t have any secrets really. You probably know me as well as I know myself with all that background checking you do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I?” Lying didn’t bother him anymore. It came easily now, natural as breathing.

“Getting to know a person involves more than just facts on a sheet of paper. Information is a tool, a scalpel used to cut away the surface flesh that hides the true inside. Capish?”

“Yeah.”

“So you understand what I’m saying when I ask you to tell me about yourself?”

“Whatever you want to know, Sonny. I told you, I don’t have secrets. Not from you, anyway.”

Sonny scratched at the side of his head messing up the feathering of his neatly styled hair. “It bothers you, what other people think about you, right?” He brought his hand to his lap and touched the diamond ring on his left little finger.

Vinnie shrugged. “I don’t really care what anyone thinks, except maybe my family.”

“And friends?”

“There aren’t a lot of those.”

“Why?”

“They all left or got married or, you know, faded away. I guess I have a lot of acquaintances, but not friends. Not anymore.”

“Because of your association with me, right?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Vinnie.”

“Hey. It’s the truth. If people can’t handle what I do for a living, or who I work for, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“You don’t like to bring your friends around me. I notice these things. But I’m not hurt. I understand your protective nature in these matters. I am a dangerous man. But only to my enemies.”

Vinnie shifted hands on the steering wheel, took a breath and let it fill him and all the emptiness that his pretend role as Sonny’s friend created. Pretend. He was pretending yet still puzzled daily by the fact that the emptiness caused the strangest aches within him, the deepest loneliness when he thought of the man, the prince, King Steelgrave, and what he was doing to him.

“You’re my friend,” Vinnie said through the hollow cavern in his chest. “That’s how I think of you anyway. I don’t think of you as dangerous. Perhaps because of the nature of the business danger hovers around you. But you don’t embarrass me. I want you to know that.” His lungs quivered once but he was done speaking and the emotion did not betray itself through his voice. Liar! his thoughts howled.

Somehow, though, Sonny sensed it. He was probably the most perceptive man Vinnie had ever met. “A man of strong feelings,” he murmured. Vinnie stole a look at him but Sonny appeared to stare straight ahead. “I chose well. Yes, I chose you well. I think I know what you are. I think I know why I reacted to you as I did. It’s really very simple. And a very good performance on your part. Yes, I know what you are, who you are.”

Vinnie’s stomach turned over and tightened. His mouth dried. He forced a smile, lightly laughed. “What do you mean: what am I?” And he clamped down on the thought that Sonny could have found out he was a cop; that he knew, somehow, he knew.

Then Sonny turned to him, raised a hand to the designer sunglasses that hid his stone brown eyes and gracefully pulled them off. “When I was a child I believed I had no soul, that there was nothing beyond the physical body and my thoughts that made me up. I believed that still, up until the day I met you.”

“What do you mean you have no soul? You were raised Catholic. So was I. That’s not what they teach.”

“Of course it’s not, but I never said I believed in everything I was taught, now, did I?”

“So what are you talking about? What’s this got to do with me?”

“I changed my mind when I met you. I saw something. I don’t know what. But the way you talk, act, think, is a way I’ve felt I sometimes wanted to be but could not express…something in here.” He tapped his chest. “It’s like you came from inside me and formed into a man, my shadow, a spirit, my soul if you will. And that’s what you are. Something I was missing when I met you but never knew existed before that. You are my soul, or a part at least. I could sense instantly you were a brother. But I cannot be you any more than you can be me. And so I chose you as my closest associate. I knew we’d make an unbeatable team. I’ve never been wrong about my gut reactions. And when I met you I just knew there’d be something between us.”

Vinnie’s mind stopped, whirled in on itself and then sat there still as ice. He had no idea how to respond or if a response was even required. And there was the guilt again, a snake rooting in his body, slithering along the ice landscape of his mind, his heart, and the serpent said, How can you do this? And Frank’s voice returned. Sonny has used the most powerful weapon on you. Love.

Have an apple, Adam, Eve said. Share my nightmare. Love the dark. Love me. Me. Me.

“Hey, I love you, man. You’re my brother,” Sonny suddenly said, and pushed the glasses back onto his face, black mirrors over demon eyes, an image of the light, trees, and road ahead reflecting in them, prisming beauty an artist would paint if he could. “And that’s all I’m going to say about the subject. And you don’t have to say a word. Just keep driving.”

Vinnie hadn’t breathed for a long moment. He let out a deep breath. “Sonny….”

“No, don’t say anything. I mean it. I don’t know. Sometimes your presence makes the strangest thoughts come and I say things I never knew I could say…or feel.” He adjusted his tie, pulled at it, slowly undid it.

“I…,” Vinnie began.

“Shut up and keep driving,” Sonny insisted. The collar came unbuttoned. He opened the passenger window, the whir of the mechanism blending with the wind. Sonny turned his head into that wind, the line along his jaw rigid, his face beneath the glasses motionless, smooth, determined to be unbreakable. The skin there was flushed. That was all Vinnie could see.

He had to say something, had to respond. His entire being cried out to this man, this enemy-friend, taut, desperate, aching.

“Sonny.”

“Just drive!”

The power behind the voice stabbed a warning and Vinnie obeyed despite the shimmer in his eyes, and the hollow spectre that haunted his thoughts and called itself love and betrayal and evil, all one and the same.

 

My but you look good today, said the spider to the fly.

Vinnie closed his eyes and put his head back. The soft pillow cushioned him, held his brain steady. He’d had a bit too much to drink. The most obscure phrases were fluttering through the haze that had once been Vincent Terranova but was now more like an incomplete copy of the man redesigned by the most expensive champagne the hotel had to sell.

He heard a door slam, then later, open. He floated and spun and could swear he heard a cow mooing in the hall. The bed jiggled. Earthquake! What floor am I on?

His eyes flashed open.

Sonny had collapsed across the foot of Vinnie’s bed. He looked passed out but maybe he was only resting on his way to his own bed. Why they’d gotten a room together, Vinnie still didn’t understand. Sonny hadn’t explained, just ordered it that way at the front desk, a double with two beds, a suite only and not the presidential penthouse the man usually purchased alone for himself whenever away from home.

They’d had a long dinner and drank a lot. Vinnie had lost count after they’d moved from the restaurant to the bar and had run up a tab that would have made even Donald Trump nervous about paying.

Decadence. This is me. I am it. He saw a cloud nearby and decided to catch it. On his way up, the sky darkened. He couldn’t see anymore. Then the air left his lungs.

“I can’t breathe,” he called out.

“What?” a voice asked.

“I can’t breathe.”

He heard a thump and a groan. He opened his eyes. Sonny was peering at him from the floor in front of his bed. He was on his knees. “I fell off,” he said when their eyes met. That incredible laugh that was Sonny’s followed.

Vinnie heard himself giggle. “You did this to me,” he accused.

Crawling to the second bed, Sonny answered. “Yes, I forced the liquid down your throat. You are my prisoner. You have no will of your own.”

“You neurotic son of a bitch,” Vinnie mumbled. “In your dreams.”

“Whose dreams?”

“Your dreams.”

“My dreams?”

“Yeah,” Vinnie said. “My dreams.”

“I’m going to be sick again, oh no. I haven’t done this since I was seventeen. Oh God, shit, where is that mother-fucking bathroom?”

Vinnie tried to raise his head. The knife through his brain wouldn’t allow it. But out the corner of his eye he could see Sonny, on hands and knees, disappear into the closet.

He fell asleep giggling.

 

Oh, this isn’t any fun. That was his first thought, or at least the first impression he remembered having.

Something burned his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down. Liquid pooled there, hardening against bare skin and hair.

Then he realized he couldn’t move. His muscles tensed. Tied down at ankles, wrists, waist and neck, he was virtually immobile. And completely naked. His hands had fallen asleep. Frank’s handcuffs had had that same affect. What the hell was going on?”

His chest began to burn again. “Hey?” He looked up.

Sonny smiled down at him. “Good morning, Mister Police Man. Sleep well?” Hot wax dripped down the tapered, white candle he held. His hand jerked lower and some splashed onto his stomach.

Vinnie gasped. “What?”

“My but you look good today,” said the Steelspider to the Terrafly.

The hand moved lower. White wax dripped onto a tender abdomen. Vinnie held his breath as the wax quickly cooled, a pinprick only, but so so sharp.

“You had my soul for safe-keeping. I told you that. And this is my reward, not honor, not trust, but lies! You played the cop to my robber. How dare you, after everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve told you, been for you, wanted you to be for me?” His mouth twisted. “How could you do this to me?”

“I…I’m not what you think….”

Sonny interrupted him, voice a shouted command. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

Somewhere Vinnie found strength. “No! You listen to me!”

A hand impacted with his jaw and then he couldn’t speak. But he kept his eyes open. He couldn’t look away now. He’d lose Sonny forever.

“See?” Sonny said, voice shockingly calm now, the change almost supernatural. He touched Vinnie’s chest, his forefinger making a circle there. “I poured the wax in a shape. What do you think it is?”

Vinnie tried to see but couldn’t lift his head.

“Not a heart. No, not that. But very much like one. I would say it is an imitation of a heart, a warped design that represents more lies than any symbol in all of history. Do you see? Do you understand now?”

Vinnie kept his eyes on Sonny’s. They were unfamiliar now, that steel brown that had less feeling than the glass eyes of a doll, the plastic eyes of a child’s toy. Madness had found its origins there and celebrated. But the celebration consisted of no happiness, no pleasure, only pain and the utter torture of the soul of a man who thought he had none.

He outlined the wax again. Vinnie felt the finger, the smooth peeling as wax pulled away from skin.

“This is your badge, bastard cop. Here. I’ve outlined it in wax relief. The symbol of superiority that gives you the right to lie and betray and control other human beings. That gives you a right to come into my life, pretend you are my brother, and then carry off my head. Does that give you joy? Well, I’m going to show you what gives me joy. Your head, Vincent Terranova, is now mine. And I’m going to take it and have it stuffed and put it on a wall. The hunter and his prey. Quite a tribute. Something you almost don’t deserve.”

Vinnie felt himself start to be sick. He closed his eyes and held onto every bit of strength he had left. “No,” he moaned. “I didn’t do it like you said. I didn’t want to betray you!”

“Shut up! You don’t have any more rights. You relinquished them all when you walked through my office door that first day. And I don’t have to listen to anything you say.”

“Sonny….” He was amazed to hear his voice shake. He had better control than that.

“Shut up!”

His jaw ached where the fist smacked him again. The room blurred behind his tears of shock and he thought he would pass out, but didn’t.

The burning wax began again. Sonny was drawing pictures on him. He was insane. It was obvious now. What good Vinnie had ever seen in him was gone. There was nothing left to appeal to.

The sharpness of the flame singed his chest, belly, arms, legs. Sonny left the thighs for last, and Vinnie felt himself losing it as the candle burned that softest of flesh just below the hip and too close to the groin. Air stank with the scent of burning hair.

“Stop,” Vinnie whispered. “Stop.” He choked on a whimper.

“I’m not finished.” The voice, utterly calm and distracted with concentration, came out gentle, almost soothing.

Vinnie felt the heat move toward his center and gasped. “Stop!”

It came closer, closer, too close to the center of his body, to the most vulnerable part of any man.

He made an animal noise, coughing, gasping. “Stop!” His voice had risen to the terror level where it breaks from one octave to the next. And between screams he yelled again and again, the panic taking him, not pain. In fact, he felt nothing.

The tantrum left him silently sobbing, then holding his breath he realized in some corner of his mind that Sonny had indeed stopped, that he stood by his head now not touching, not hurting, just looking at him, looking, looking.

Vinnie froze.

Sonny opened his mouth, screaming until the room shook, then dropped to his knees. “Why? Why did you do this to me?” And then angry fists began to lightly pound Vinnie’s chest, his head. And all the while the man behind the fists kept asking, “Why? Why?”

And Vinnie was trying to answer but the words never seemed right. “I didn’t mean…. You kill people…. Following orders…. Don’t understand…. I loved you…. Hated you….”

Then the beating stopped and Sonny, cheeks blazing wet, put his face so close to Vinnie’s that Vinnie could feel his breath on his dry, salty lips. “Who are you to judge me?” the torturer rasped. “Who are you?!” Then he lay his head on Vinnie’s chest, arms coming up to embrace him. Vinnie felt lips press onto the wax, onto his skin. The trembling man’s tears stung him. A sad voice asked once again, “Who are you?”

Vinnie closed his eyes. Welcomed darkness. “Your soul,” he whispered.

He tumbled through unconsciousness, weightless, uncontrolled. Then he woke as if from a dream. He sighed relief until he realized he was still tied down, still paralyzed, hurting and very very cold.

Frank came into view from the side shadows. “Who did this to you?” he asked, mouth open, eyes narrowed behind round glasses with the sheen of disbelief.

“Sonny.” The name choked his throat like a hand pushing down.

“Who?”

“Sonny.” He gagged.

“Sonny did this to you? Sonny Steelgrave?”

“Yes. Frank, please untie me.” He shivered and bit down on trembling lips.

“You look burned. Did he do that, too?”

Vinnie nodded. “Please untie me.”

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. Frank. Please. Come on.”

But Frank simply stood there, staring, unmoved.

“Frank.”

“Vince, I told you this was going to happen. I warned you. I tried to save you. I tried.”

“Frank, I know. Please. It hurts. Let me up. Untie me.”

“Maybe Steelgrave hasn’t left the building yet.” Frank turned and faced the door.

“Frank. Don’t leave me here like this.”

But Frank began to move away.

“Frank?”

“I have to find him. He might get away.”

“Frank, don’t leave. Please let me up.” The desperation grew to panic again. This was worse than Sonny’s torture. Frank was deserting him.

“Frank!” he gasped. “Frank.” His vision darkened.

“So, the gallant Prince Charming has come to save the pure, untarnished, virginal sacrifice.”

At the sound of Sonny’s voice, Vinnie focused his eyes.

Sonny stood before Frank, gun out and aimed at the heart of Vinnie’s friend

“Well, it looks like you won’t succeed.”

“Mr. Steelgrave, I presume,” Frank said, not blinking an eye.

“Frank McPike, I assume,” Sonny replied.

“Go ahead and shoot me,” Frank said, shrugging. “Prove to Vince that you’re nothing but a madman. Prove him justified in everything he’s done to you.”

Vinnie tried to move but couldn’t. That was when he realized he was the fool. Used by everyone, Sonny, Frank, he was the pawn, the tool they used to fight each other in the end.

“I’ll prove to Vinnie that you can die,” Sonny said.

“I’ll prove to Vince that you are the most vile creature ever born,” Frank said.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Vinnie yelled.

The gun went off.

Frank fell out of Vinnie’s range of vision. Sonny slowly faded into nothingness.

“Frank?” Vinnie couldn’t breathe again. “Frank? Frank, answer me. Frank.” His voice faded as he ran out of air. He couldn’t inhale. His world darkened.

 

When he awoke, the face of Sonny Steelgrave was the first thing he saw. The brown eyes peered down at him; an evil smile possessed the lips.

No.

“Who’s Frank?”

“What?” Vinnie felt his heart slam against his chest. In the confusion he discovered he could move and jerked his hand upward, into Sonny’s curious face, backhanding him.

Sonny went flying backwards as Vinnie sat up, frowning, rubbing the back of his hand.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, confused to see he still wore his silk trousers, shoes and white shirt. He stared at Sonny’s fallen form. The other man was leaning against the second bed, hand against his face, knees drawn up. He was also wearing trousers, a shirt, but no shoes and no socks. He blinked hard and looked up.

Then Vinnie remembered the booze and falling asleep to the sound of Sonny being sick in the closet. He’d had one incredibly realistic dream. Too real.

He stood up, ignoring the pounding in his head. “Sonny, I’m sorry, man. Shit.” He reached down to the stricken man, offering his hand.

Sonny raised both eyebrows and said, very seriously, “Did I startle you, Mr. Terranova?”

“I’m sorry.”

Sonny shrugged and got up, unaided. “It’s my own fault. I know better than to get that close to a sleeping man, especially one who’s a bodyguard with self-defense so readily on the mind.”

“I don’t usually do that. I have one hell of a hangover, though,” Vinnie admitted.

“Me, too. But you never answered my question. Who’s Frank? You were calling for him like your life depended on it.” He slicked back his hair with his left hand, then examined his shirt for flaws as he waited for Vinnie’s answer.

“Frank? Oh, Frank. Well, it was just a dream.”

“Must have been one hell of one, then. Tell me about it.” Sonny plopped down on his bed and looked up expectantly.

“Uh, Frank is…was a friend of mine. He died.”

“Sorry to hear that. He haunt your dreams often?”

“No.” Vinnie shook his head.

“Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. And you were thrashing like one had you trapped. I might have figured you’d be a man of many nightmares. Nothing is simple where you’re concerned.”

Vinnie had to look away. The dream was still too close to him, touching him with ghost hands, with the unreality of a false memory when you’ve just discovered the truth.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Vinnie said, suddenly noticing the blood on the side of Sonny’s mouth. “I didn’t mean to.” He bowed his head.

“It’s all right. I told you that. It’s forgotten. But back to this Frank person. Did he die before he knew what a good friend he had in you?”

Vinnie looked up in awe. Sonny’s eyes were intent, shimmering and open with questions. “No, he knew.”

“What does a guy have to do to warrant a place in your dreams?”

Vinnie sat there for a moment, thinking. Then he scowled. “What kind of a question is that?”

“Personal,” Sonny said. “Very personal. And I had no right to ask it.” He got up then and entered the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Vinnie stared at the indentation on the bed where Sonny had just been. “No, Sonny,” he whispered. “You have every right to ask it.” His thoughts continued. I’m the one who has no rights. From the moment I walked through your door I relinquished them. From the moment I pretended to be your friend. I’m the nightmare. I’m the torturer. I’m the one who will control your Hell. I’m your personal demon. Your soul. But never your friend. Never the one thing we both want most. Never. Never. Never.

A shadow blocked the light from Vinnie’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” Sonny said. “Vacation’s over. Are you ready? Are you ready to get back to work now?”

“Yes,” Vinnie said. “I’m ready.”

But with all due respect to the crown prince of Atlantic City, he had never really left.

*  
As if another man appeared out of the depths of my being,  
and I stood outside myself.  
\-- Theodore Roethke

THE WAR INSIDE: PART I

 

On the drive home, Sonny was restless and irritable. He kept commenting on Vinnie’s driving. He was going too slow. He was going too fast. He coulda made that light if he’d just sped up a little.

Vinnie felt plain nauseous. The hangover was one of the worst he’d ever had although he hadn’t been sick like Sonny had. He really should not be driving. There was a strange knot high up in the center of his sternum that kept twisting tighter and tighter. The air in the car grew hot and he leaned forward to turn on the air conditioner even though the temp was mild outside. A slight scent of new leather and freon filled the car.

They passed the turn-off to McPike’s neighborhood again and Vinnie’s heart skipped a beat. He saw his supervisor babbling, saying nothing, just talking, talking. In his head, his thoughts formed a kind of black cloud and he felt them shout, “Shut up! Just shut up.” He felt Frank’s hand on his arm pulling him, his handcuffed wrists twisting up, scraping, near to breaking. Frank seemed angry all the time lately. Distrustful. Worried. He was supposed to be the one to give Vinnie strength, make him feel invincible, build up his confidence, reassure him backed by an army of righteous agents who knew, without a shade of doubt, right from wrong, good from evil.

But that last conversation shook him badly. Frank had shown no confidence, had, in fact, torn him down. Frank had not usually been so careless. But Frank had made him lose his nerve a bit. It must be why he’d had the dream, why Sonny had reacted so strangely to him. Why this whole scene had been put into motion. Sonny never would’ve suggested getting away for the night if Vinnie hadn’t shown, somehow, the sudden unease of his current situation. And if he hadn’t had that dream maybe he wouldn’t be feeling so sick. He had barely had time to process it. 

And then there was Sonny. Asking that question. “What does a guy have to do to warrant a place in your dreams?” If Sonny really knew he had starred in the dream, top billing, spotlight and all, what would he have said then? And what if he knew the dream had really been a sadistic nightmare? They had been so easy with one another last night. Sure being drunk helped, but it was always nice to just relax with Sonny. It was fun. If Sonny was anything, he was never boring. Now an undercurrent of tension began to emerge. How could everything get so complicated so fast?

The knot twisted as he thought again of Frank’s lecture to him. “Love,” Frank kept saying over and over. “The most powerful weapon.”

Did he dream Sonny collapsing on him, pressing his lips to his chest – fucking Hell! -- because of Frank’s words? Or was it because Sonny had called him his “shadow” and, even, his soul? While he thrilled to hear Sonny talk this way, it also half-scared him because he did think of their friendship as real. He was not playing Sonny in that regard.

Now another knot started, this one in the pit of his stomach very low, and his body reacted with a sudden prickling heat, not unlike a flame, Sonny’s candle flame from the dream running all over his body.

Vinnie turned slightly in his seat, one eye still on the road, and observed Sonny, who sat with his hands on his knees, his legs bobbing up and down as if impatience ruled him, as if he could not keep all the boiling energy that made the blinding brightness that was Sonny Steelgrave remain at bay.

That was when Vinnie suspected…no, that was when he knew Sonny wasn’t impatient. He was upset. He was, maybe, even pissed.

Ok, now he was thinking way too much.

“Why are you looking at me?” Sonny suddenly quipped.

Startled out of his revelry, he said, “I’m not.”

“Well quit it.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Just keep driving.”

“You keep picking at everything I do, my driving…Hell, I can’t even look at you now?” He knew he was on safe ground with those words. Sonny liked it when he talked to him like a regular guy, not as a subordinate.

Sonny drummed his fingers on his jumping knees. Abruptly, he said, “Yeah, well, sometimes when you look at me I feel like you’re accusing me of something.”

Thrown by this comment, Vinnie stuttered. “Wh-what?”

“Nothing.” He was silent for only a moment, then said, “You know, I wasn’t always looking to run Steelgrave Enterprises.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“I had other dreams. When I was a lot younger. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.”

The first knot, the upper one that was like an alien moving inside him getting ready to be born through his chest, shuffled slightly and a puff of air escaped his lungs. He heard Frank again. “You see the good in people.” He thought about that. Vincent the redeemer. Sonny was going to say something to confuse him again. It was coming. Hell, it had already happened too many times to count.

“Did you know I was pre-med when my father died?”

“What?”

A sharp laugh. “You assumed I never went to college.”

“No.” But it was true. This wasn’t in the briefings the OCB had given him to study.

“Sure you did. Everyone thinks it, and those who know the truth have forgotten.” He sighed. “I sure hope Tracy makes it and just stays far far away.”

Vinnie’s thoughts tumbled and exploded. This script was going all wrong. What should he say? He’d been so sure of himself. He’d been fine just yesterday. Then Frank hauled him in, and now this.

Maybe a minute went by. Vinnie was frozen in silence.

“Do you ever think about just one day goin’ out for cigarettes and you just keep walking? You don’t ever look back?”

“But you don’t smoke, Sonny.” He wanted to hit himself in the forehead as soon as the words came out. What a stupid thing to say. Of course Sonny was talking figuratively. Not only that, the thought was something Sonny should never ever have shared with any of his hired help. Including Vinnie. What was happening?

Softly, almost affectionately, Sonny said, “Vinnie, why do you sometimes act so dumb when we both know you’re not? It comes across…well, just plain patronizing.”

Vinnie frowned, turned to look at him again. “I’m sor…”

“Forget about it. I thought we had fun last night, you know, like normal people might. I don’t get to let loose like that, not really. Just go off somewhere with no expectations. The guys who work for me, they’re crude, rude, or snobs like Sid. It’s boring. I’m almost 34, not 18 anymore. I like stuff to be more real. You have more finesse. You don’t go for the drugs. You don’t go for the whores. You don’t even seem to care about the money. I admire that. I thought I could talk to you more honestly. But obviously you either can’t trust me still…if ever, or you are incapable of juxtaposing anything but simple thoughts. But we both know it’s not the latter. You’re too smart.”

“Fine.” Vinnie played along. “I can talk any way you like. And I don’t need a dictionary for your three dollar words, either.”

“Well what is it then? Are you shy? Do I make you nervous? Huh? After everything we’ve done together?”

Vinnie knew it was always best to be as honest as possible. Lying made you have to remember too many details. “Maybe a little of all of it,” he replied.

“Thank you,” Sonny said. “A little honesty at last.”

“Okay, here’s more. I didn’t go to college straight out of school, but a few years later. Fordham. I didn’t finish, though.” Just a little lie. “I changed my major three times. I thought I might want to get into psychology. Then I thought about being a lawyer. Then I dabbled in writing. I couldn’t afford the 4th year. Then I met some guys making some easy money, smuggling up and down the coast. I got a charge out of it. It was exciting. Then I got arrested.”

“So you thought you’d make some fast money and then finish?”

Vinnie shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought. I kinda got sucked in. I liked it. Till the cops showed up.”

“So when you spilled spaghetti on me in the restaurant, were you trying to go straight?”

“I was just trying to get by. Not get arrested again. When you offered me a job it was like a godsend. I hated busing tables. I knew with my record I couldn’t do much else. And I had no money. Then I crashed into you.” A wry grin spread across his face.

Sonny chuckled. “You sure did. But even working for me, first thing off you got arrested again.”

“Yeah, that I did.”

Sonny shifted in his seat and reached out with his hand, the one with the Rolex and diamond ring on it, and clapped Vinnie on the shoulder. “I’m sorry about that.” The tips of his fingers brushed very lightly at Vinnie’s neck just under the hairline behind his ear.

It was almost a fatherly touch. Almost….

There was a quick whiff of cologne, Sonny’s unmistakable scent, then the touch was gone.

The second knot at the pit of his stomach unclenched, then clenched harder. He felt sweat break out on his lower back. The nausea came on again, followed by a feeling of not being solid. Then the rush came. Unexpected. Like the candle flame in the dream. Like a prickling of a million pins. Unlike the nightmare, it didn’t hurt but instead felt somehow easy, addictive, thrilling.

Arousing.

This wasn’t just a hangover.

He was sure his skin must be steaming and reached out to turn up the air at the same time Sonny reached for it. Their hands collided. Vinnie pulled away. Sonny chuckled under his breath, the sound not much more than a sigh, and turned the cool setting up a notch. Out the corner of his eye, Vinnie saw him lean back in his seat, tilt his head back against the neck rest and close his eyes. “It’s damn hot in here,” was all he said.

Taking one hand from the steering wheel, Vinnie brushed the back of his hand across his brow.

He wanted the moment to end and he wanted it to last forever.

But five minutes later found them pulling up to the hotel parking garage at Sonny’s private entrance. As far as he could tell, Sonny hadn’t moved. His eyes had remained closed.

Vinnie parked close to the elevators and turned the ignition off. “We’re here.” He undid his seatbelt and started to open the door. 

“Wait.” Sonny’s voice stopped him.

Vinnie turned to face him. Sonny was staring at him with a strange look, not quite hunger, not quite pain, but with something like a question, or a quiet desperation. And it did something strange to Vinnie. It made him want so badly to reach out, although he didn’t. And it made him want to make sure nothing ever happened to this man, not ever. Sonny’s head tilted. Vinnie felt his mouth open slightly, felt the questioning look echo in the muscles of his own face.

“Go change” he said softly. “Then meet me in my office around 10. Okay?”

“Sure, Sonny.” He took a breath then, and it felt like the first deep breath he’d taken in hours. 

He saw Sonny’s chest rise, too, and then they were out of the car and sharing the elevator. Vinnie got off first on the floor just below Sonny’s, leaving Sonny to ride the rest of the way up to his penthouse.

When he entered his rooms he saw everything in a different light than normal. He saw the elegance, the finery, the richness of the rooms and he realized that Sonny had from the beginning not only given him some of the best accommodations the hotel had to offer, he had also made sure Vinnie was very close by. Vinnie had noticed this before, but thought it was so he could be easily called upon to do whatever work Sonny had to give him. Now he saw that this was more than just a handy spare room, especially since he had, for awhile, spent a lot of time far from here at the docks and an export warehouse Sonny had named after him. Sonny had favored him from the moment he showed up for his first day of work. It was what had made Dave so nervous and disapproving. He had thought before how lucky he was to get in so deep and so quick. He had thought a friendship with this man might be easy and natural but no big deal.

He didn’t think that anymore. A harsh voice in his head said, “Frank is right. Call Lifeguard now. Get out!”

He swallowed hard and squelched the voice. Damn Frank anyway! Would he be thinking any of this right now if Frank hadn’t brought it all up just yesterday? If he hadn’t had that dream? It was as if that meeting with Frank stole away every scene of the program he’d set out to play. It stole all the blacks and whites he’d made of the world and replaced them with shades of gray…with shades of brown that all led to that one look in Sonny’s eyes just before they got out of the car.

How fucking long had this been going on at this level for Sonny? And how had Frank known it while Vinnie, admittedly, could see it but never put a voice to it?

He lowered his head to his hands and groaned. Knot number one curled tighter. Knot number two clenched harder.

At the same moment, he found himself heading quickly for the shower. He dreaded his predicament, but he also craved it. He couldn’t wait to be back in the presence of the intensity of that man the OCB so badly wanted taken down.

Hair still damp, he dressed hurriedly but carefully in one of his best suits, one of the half-dozen Sonny had purchased for him. He quickly downed a whole glass of water. When he showed up at Sonny’s office, he was feeling a little better. And, overachiever that he was, he was a half an hour early.

***

Vinnie sat in his customary spot on the overstuffed leather couch pretending to read the paper while listening to Sid rant at Sonny. Sonny sat at his glass desk pretending to listen but with a telltale scowl on his face.

A delivery had gone bad, Sid was saying. Money was lost. What would Patrice think? Couldn’t Sonny handle things on his end? Did Sid have to ask Patrice to send more guys over to help out? Dave never would’ve let this happen. When Dave was here, things were smoother.

They were in a play within a play. Whenever Sid was around lately, it was required for Vinnie to be surly, Sonny to be moody. If they were lucky, Patrice might actually try to buy Vinnie’s confidence, turn him. Vinnie was to do everything to encourage this belief in both Sid and Patrice. Sonny knew it was only a matter of time before Patrice made an attempt to hit him. It was Vinnie’s job to find out how badly Patrice wanted Sonny dead, and how he would actually do it.

It amazed Vinnie that Sid was so inept for such a decorated Harvard man. Sonny was always about ten steps ahead of everyone. Wasn’t it obvious to all around him? Sonny moved at lightspeed. His mind was sharp, his observations clear and keen. Had he stood so long in the shadow of Dave that people didn’t notice? Dave had been a calculating and careful man, but he was a dim light in a cabin window compared to Sonny’s sprawling city blaze. Dave had been almost one-dimensional. Sonny operated multi-dimensionally at all times.

Now Vinnie looked up from his paper, realizing he’d been spoken to. Both Sid and Sonny were staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Go check it out. Morgan never made the delivery. Find him,” Sonny ordered.

Vinnie made himself look bored. “What am I, a babysitter? Morgan’s a drunk. Why’d you send him in the first place? He’s a rat, too, ya know.”

Sid looked taken aback. Good.

Sonny bristled. “I want you to go, Vinnie.”

“Aw, send Rudy or Chill. They’re not doin’ nothin.”

Sonny gave an exasperated grunt, turned to Sid with his hands out at his sides and shrugged. Then he called over his shoulder to Vinnie. “Terranova, you on the rag today or something?”

Vinnie threw the paper down and got up. “Whatever. I’ll go.” He shuffled by Sid who still wore that insufferable expression, like he’d just had a sock stuffed up his mouth and couldn’t breathe.

When he got to the lobby of the casino he phoned Sonny who answered first ring. “I’ll find Morgan,” he said.

“I know you will, “ Sonny replied.

Nothing to it. Truth was, they were simply a superb team.

 

The day was nothing out of the ordinary. Vinnie found Morgan at his usual bar, package intact. He was merely drunk and had completely lost track of the time. So Vinnie delivered the package three hours late and called to say the job was done.

When he returned to the hotel he was immediately met by a security guard who handed him a sealed note with his name in calligraphy on the front.

Vinnie pocketed the note and went straight to Sonny’s office. He didn’t need to read it. It had the stink of Patrice all over it.

Sonny took the note silently from him, opened it, then laughed. “The idiot wants to meet with you again. Tomorrow. Ya gotta hand it to him. He’s a real player. Careful you don’t cut yourself on those sharp suits he wears.”

Vinnie smiled but he didn’t join in laughing. Something about it really bothered him. He didn’t feel safe. Patrice wasn’t just your garden-variety sociopath. He was like a machine with nothing but echoes on the inside. The guy was more cold-blooded than anyone Vinnie had ever met, including in prison. Their first meeting had left Vinnie with a kind of strange dread. Like he’d just seen a very effective and very sick horror movie. Patrice wanting to meet with him again so soon seemed like things were going too fast.

“Sonny, I don’t know about this. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I need to know what he wants to tell you.”

“I know. But maybe if we just doubled up on security…”

Sonny looked at him with a frown, then turned away. “I can send Rudy with you.”

“No. Patrice’d know something was up. I have to go alone.”

Sonny looked back at him, still contemplative. “I need you in there. My life is in your hands.”

And now he couldn’t say no even if he’d wanted to. He had sworn to himself both as the agent he was and as Sonny’s friend that he’d protect him. The knot in his sternum shifted. “I can do it. I just don’t trust him enough to even look at him.”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah, he is a sleaze-bag, I’ll grant you that. No honor.”

Vinnie’s heart skipped. With Sonny, honor was a big deal. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. He glanced out the big plate glass windows and noticed the September light outside had gone gold and shadowy. “It’s later than I thought.”

“5:30,” Sonny replied. “You had anything to eat?”

He turned back to Sonny and it was as if a shift in time and space had just occurred. Now Sonny stood bathed in that deep gold light, like some kind of dark autumn king surrounded by the eddies and currents of approaching winter, and the cold clutch of time itself. His eyes seemed to glisten. His hair looked softer than usual, black tinted with the amber of the sunset. He stood before Vinnie with a power that was unnamable. He stood alone.

Vinnie blinked, then swallowed.

Sonny moved toward him. Reached out. There was a scent of cologne. There was that familiar hand on his shoulder. “Vinnie?”

The heat of Sonny’s hand washed straight through his entire body in about one second flat. He could feel himself moving closer and closer to some decision inside himself. In his mind, Frank said, “I think there’s more than a professional bond between you two. And that, my friend, interferes with your job and my job.” He blinked hard again, turning his back on the mental voice and image, erasing, erasing…. He turned his head to look at where Sonny’s hand met his shoulder, and stared. Still staring, voice gruff, he said, “Sonny, can I buy you a drink?”

Sonny’s hand gripped him, then dropped to his back giving him a gentle nudge toward the door. “Sure you can.”

Vinnie turned his head and met Sonny’s gaze. It was clear, calm. There was no smile, no scowl, no hint of teasing, just a nod of complete acceptance.

 

In the more private section of the lounge, they could still hear all the cacophony of the casino, the bells, the laughter, the jingling of coins in slot machine trays. But there was a half-wall that blocked them from sight and dimmed the noise.

A pretty brunette waitress brought them gin and tonics, flirted a bit and left with a nice tip. Vinnie paid, but Sonny gave the tip. It was interesting for Vinnie to note that the flirting didn’t distract Sonny like it normally might. He said some nice things to her, but then turned and winked at Vinnie, suppressing a grin. There had been times when Sonny was crude, times when he pushed a little too hard and too fast leaving girls in his wake blushing and confused and wondering what they’d just done that might come back to haunt them. Sonny’s appetite for women usually matched his unbridled energy.

But tonight was not one of those nights.

Vinnie sat back and took a long sip of his drink. He lifted his gaze over the rim of his glass. Sonny was stirring the ice in his with a swizzle stick, an almost nonchalant look in his eyes. Vinnie took a breath as if to speak but realized he could think of nothing to say. He put his glass down, ran his fingertips down the sides. It was deliciously cool unlike the rest of his body. All day he’d felt on the border of feverish.

Sonny opened his mouth to speak. Nothing. He pursed his lips together, breathed out, then in again. Then he put his hand to his chin, elbow on table and rested his head there. Contemplative. Assessing. Finally he sighed, almost rolling his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. And looked down at the ring his glass had made on the cocktail napkin.

Vinnie felt the fever rise, cross the border to full heat. The ice in his glass was already melting. He blinked several times, heat piercing his eyes, giving everything in the room a silvery sheen. He needed fresh air. He felt the knots tighten and to accommodate them he took shorter and shorter breaths.

Sonny fairly glowed. He kept looking straight at Vinnie with the most sobering expression, then away, then back again. He had taken none of his drink. Finally, he stood. “Let’s go,” was all he said.

Vinnie rose, fists clenching, and followed.

They rode the elevator in silence. All the way up to the top floor.

Vinnie had been in the penthouse before, but only briefly. Sonny rarely took people up there. Girls maybe, but not business. Employees were forbidden to even call him there. At the door, Sonny turned. “I can’t think down there. It’s all too much business. Up here it’s quiet. Have you seen the view?” He stood on the threshold and motioned Vinnie in.

“No.” His own room, while posh and elegant, overlooked the hotel rooftop which blocked much of the city.

“You’re in for a treat.” Together they walked to the giant windows across a thick, luxurious carpet edging an elegant living room. Atlantic City boiled before them, a glittering ocean of lights. They were in one of the tallest buildings. It seemed they were looking down from the clouds.

Sonny turned away first and walked over to a small bar. Vinnie’s eyes followed, although he still stood by the window.

Sonny took off his suit jacket and neatly laid it across one of the barstools. Then he took out two long-stemmed wine glasses from a cupboard below the counter, and opened a large black fridge. From it he took an unopened bottle of wine. He expertly popped the cork and poured, glancing up. “Take off your jacket if you want.”

Vinnie was so warm he was grateful to obey. He folded the jacket and moved forward to place it next to Sonny’s. Then he reached up, loosening his tie. Sonny grabbed both glasses and moved past him. And there was that faint scent again, Sonny’s sweet cologne, followed by a tug in Vinnie’s chest.

He followed Sonny into the living room. A white leather couch faced a glass coffee table and further toward the wall was a large screen TV. Sonny sat, placing his glass on the table and holding the second one up for Vinnie. He took it, grateful for something to hold onto.

“Sit.” Sonny pushed one of the small decorative cushions aside. As Vinnie sat, Sonny leaned back and undid his own tie and the top button of his white dress shirt. He pulled the tie free of his collar and set it on the table next to his drink. He turned to Vinnie. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate the drink you bought me. But I got to thinking right after about this here,” he motioned to his wine glass, “which is the best and I’ve been wanting to open it for awhile now. I thought you might like it, too.”

Vinnie took a sip of the sweet and salty concoction and nodded. “It’s good. Great, I mean.”

Sonny smiled wryly and put one foot on the edge of the table and, head back on the couch, he closed his eyes. His hands rose to his chest and he started drumming his fingers against his ribs.

Vinnie sank further into the couch, trying to relax, trying to balance his wine. The heat in his body swirled. “This is a comfortable couch. I think I might never leave.”

“Sometimes I’ve had the same exact thought,” came the reply.

Turning toward him, Vinnie felt a little freer to talk at last. “Why don’t you own a home? Why do you live here?”

Sonny shrugged. “Never really wanted to…until recently, that is. When you’re young, sometimes you just never want to go home, if you get my meaning. I was in my twenties when I moved in here. I felt on top of the world. Dave didn’t want this penthouse. He had his house in the burbs, the kids, the wife.”

“But not you?”

“I thought about a home, but I was too young, too hyper, too wild to ever think of settling. Not yet. But recently….” He drifted off.

“Something’s changed?”

“Sure.” He sat up a little, his eyes losing some of their gleam. “Part of it is getting older.”

“You’re not old,” Vinnie said.

Sonny nodded. “The other part, well, when I was shot…when…when Dave died, I thought ‘is this all there is?’ It could’ve been me. It really woke me up. I kinda wondered what the hell was I doin’? In my line of work I could get whacked at any time. And then Patrice reared his ugly head.” He took a deep breath, almost shaky. “I’m….” He stopped abruptly.

Vinnie felt the flames in his body shift slightly to a warm affinity. With it came the familiar instinct to protect this man, the same instinct he’d felt in Sonny’s office only a little while ago. It was a strange thought to have considering the most dangerous man in Sonny Steelgrave’s life right at this very moment was Vinnie himself. At that thought, the severe heat of guilt replaced the warmth, threatening him with all sorts of side affects. The nausea from that morning returned. The knot in his chest grew bigger.

“Vinnie?”

He looked up. Sonny was staring at him again. “I know what you’re saying,” Vinnie said quickly to hide his discomfort. He sat up straighter, put his glass down on the table. “And I think I know what you were gonna say.”

Sonny leaned forward, hands falling to his sides. “Yeah? So tell me.”

They were facing each other very close now, knees touching. Vinnie shook his head.

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“I’m afraid you’ll slug me.”

Sonny shook his head. “You read my mind. Now tell me what I was thinking.”

“Okay,” he lowered his voice. “I think you were going to say that you are afraid to die.” He said it very slow, then gritted his teeth and waited to be wrong.

Sonny kept his gaze steady, took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He shook his head again from side to side. “Who are you?” he asked softly. “You’re like some…some angel sent to…to…or a demon maybe….” He closed his eyes. “Jesus that was a stupid thing to say.”

Vinnie exhaled out all in a rush. “No, it’s not.” But those words were followed closely by Frank in his head again. He’s using the most powerful weapon. Watch out.

Sonny took his foot off the edge of the table and sat up straighter. He put his hand to the bridge of his nose and rubbed. He did not look at Vinnie when he said, “Sometimes, when you’re around, I think things maybe I shouldn’t be thinking.”

Vinnie remembered him saying something very similar to that during their drive the night before. A combination of panic and longing surged through him. “I know.” His voice was gruff.

Sonny looked sidelong at him. His eyes glittered but the rest of his face still showed a hint of worry.

Vinnie swallowed hard, clenching and unclenching his fists. He glanced once at his wine glass, wishing he’d drunk it all and gone for seconds. But he was afraid to make a move for it, afraid to break this spell that was winding over and around them, locking them together inside some kind of bubble that made the rest of the world dim.

There was the heat of their bodies, palpable now. There were the city lights far away outside the huge reflecting windows. There was that edge of panic again, and a heart-stopping, unusually strong devotion that made the air static between them.

Almost of their own accord, Vinnie’s errant hands brushed Sonny’s knees, fingertips resting lightly on the cool, brushed silk of expensive black trousers.

Sonny took a small breath and the muscles of his narrowed brow visibly softened.

Something happened then, something electric, something from the depths of longing and despair and mortality and desire. It was desperate. It was demanding. It was real and alive. Sonny’s arms rose up and closed around Vinnie’s back. He turned his face to the right side of Vinnie and kissed him very softly on the cheek, exactly where he had kissed him on that day before he’d almost taken Vinnie on the 3 A.M. ride to his death. He pulled Vinnie close to do it, and Vinnie’s jaw rubbed against Sonny’s as he pressed into that kiss. For a moment he could not believe he wasn’t dreaming. For a moment, his mind was blank. Then his body started to feel unsolid again, like it had in the car that morning. A feeling like warm wind rushed through him and without even thinking about it he deliberately turned his face so that their lips brushed.

At the same time, he moved his hands until they touched Sonny’s sides, and that was that.

The order of things became confused, hazy, as the kiss deepened, the taste so sweet that the heat of his body rose. It seemed he was boiling alive. He couldn’t breathe again, but who needed air? He had what he needed. All he needed. Sonny moving closer. Sonny in his arms. Sonny on his mouth.

It was impossible to pull back. But if he didn’t he was sure he would faint. He gasped. As they parted and both took breaths, they fell back together again, frantic, lips, tongues, hands moving up and down. Fingers tore at Vinnie’s shirt and he heard the buttons pop off. Hands touched his chest, then slid to his back pressing his ribs, embracing. Vinnie had already pulled Sonny’s shirt out of his waistband and had his hands up against the other man’s back pulling him closer.

Everything spun. Sonny fell forward pushing Vinnie back. Vinnie took one hand out from under Sonny’s shirt and cupped the back of his neck, feeling the fringe of soft dark hair touch his fingers. He pressed down on the back of his head and forced the man to kiss him harder.

Sonny pushed up for a second, nearly breathless. “Christ, Vinnie.” Then he dipped into the kiss again, one hand coming up and holding Vinnie’s cheek and chin as he did so. That tenderness sent Vinnie spinning further, only this time it took him off to a place where a sudden paralyzing cold replaced the fire. Where an abyss circled him. Where pure physical torture would have been a relief to the dark torment that radiated through him. He felt the weight of Sonny on him shift. It was beautiful to hold him like this.

But it was horrible. The most horrible nightmare ever. It was betrayal from the deepest pit of Hell. What he was doing was vile. The kind of evil that kills love and fractures souls.

This was not the way he’d been raised. This was not the kind of man he was. And it was no longer about the law.

Now he pushed himself back. Sonny did not notice right away.

He brought his hands forward and pressed flat against Sonny’s chest. With a strangled cry, he yelled, “Wait!”

Sonny froze above him, hand still pressed against his cheek. “Hey….”

It was too hard. Gasping, he pulled Sonny close again, but bowed his head until his forehead touched Sonny’s chest. He couldn’t look at him now. He would rather die.

Sonny reached back and cupped his head, holding him gently, sitting him upright.

Vinnie gasped, “I can’t do this.” Gasped again. “I can’t do this to you!” Now he was hyperventilating.

“What?” He grasped Vinnie in a firm embrace.

Vinnie pushed away, struggling to stand. Sonny’s hands let go, then grabbed his wrists as Vinnie managed, shakily, to stand. “I can’t….” He turned. But Sonny rose with him. He tried to pull away but Sonny’s grip was unrelenting. Vinnie pulled again.

“Hey….” Sonny gripped harder.

Vinnie was still unable to get enough breath. The room was spinning. His legs started to shake. “Oh, God….”

:”What…?”

“I…I…I…want to tell you….” He couldn’t think. He needed to sit, stand, run…anything but continue to feel Sonny’s pull on him.

“Slow down. What’s wrong?” And that voice that could be so cruel, so brash was, right now, far and away all too kind to do him any good.

“Oh God. Oh God,” he gasped. He tried to pull away again, but Sonny held his wrists firm.

“Vinnie, get hold of yourself. Talk to me.”

“I can’t. I can’t do this. It’s too real. I feel too deeply for you.”

“It’s okay.” Sonny tried to pull him close but Vinnie turned, stretching out his arms, pushing. 

“No. You don’t understand!” A sob escaped his throat.

Still Sonny wouldn’t let go, so Vinnie did the only thing he could to get out of Sonny’s range of vision. He allowed his shaking knees to buckle and fell with Sonny still grasping him. “Vinnie!” Sonny called out, bending with him, trying to catch him.

As he fell, he said in a strangled, breathless voice, “Please don’t.” Then, in a whisper, “I’m a Federal agent.” He lost his balance then and pitched forward, falling hard against Sonny’s knees.

The grip on his wrists let go. His hands dropped flat against the thick carpet, his head and shoulders still brushing Sonny’s legs. He groaned once, then simply waited. For whatever might come: death, pain, vengeance. He felt blind. He felt there wasn’t enough air in all the world to fill his aching lungs.

Then he heard Sonny’s weight drop to the couch, felt the legs he rested against bend at the knee and shift away until his head came to rest against only the coolness of the leather. Now he leaned against the foot of the couch still gasping, still waiting, still feeling Sonny’s heat close, oh God far too close.

After what seemed like eternity, he dared to glance up through fevered eyes. Sonny sat with his fists against his temples, his eyes closed. Then he pushed his fingers hard through his dark hair and opened his eyes to stare down at Vinnie, the look there unreadable.

Vinnie looked quickly away and thought that as long as he lived he would never again catch his breath. It was like something was wrong inside him. Maybe he was having a heart attack.

All of a sudden Sonny kicked him in the side. But it wasn’t a hard kick. Just a jolt. He said, icily, “Quit groveling. It’s not your style.”

Vinnie found his own voice. “What…?”

“Just shut up,” he interrupted before Vinnie could finish the question. “I gotta think!” And he put his fists to his temples and pounded them.

Vinnie was silent, still breathing hard but a little better for the moment although he had convinced himself impending death was still on its way.

Sonny spoke again. “Get up.”

“What?” Vinnie didn’t think he could stand at all right now.

“Get off the God damn floor!” He punched the cushion next to him.

Shaking, Vinnie rose and sat back down on the couch. He felt frayed and broken. His shirt was gaping with no more buttons. He felt exposed and ashamed and appalled at himself.

Sonny looked at him, down, then up to his face. He blinked slowly and said, almost hissing, “Why did you tell me this?”

Vinnie swallowed. “Are you going to kill me?”

Sonny’s gaze shifted nervously away. His chest seemed to shake along with his voice. “I don’t normally whack people who tell me the truth. Is that why you’re telling me this now?” He shook his head and there was a sudden wounded look in his dark eyes that came, then went.

The knot in his chest squirmed. “I’m telling you now because,” he said earnestly, “what I feel for you isn’t about any of that anymore. It’s too real. What we have…what was happening between us…”

Sonny held up his hand to stop him. “You assume too much. What we have??? What if….” He swallowed hard, the wounded look back again, then gone. Voice soft but still too harsh, he said, “Maybe I just had a little too much to drink, Vinnie.” He stood then, moving around the coffee table and heading toward the end of the room.

Chest aching, Vinnie got up immediately and followed him. He had watched him all night. Sonny had not had one drop of alcohol. He’d stirred the ice. He’d poured the wine. But he’d drunk nothing.

The penthouse was dark except for a burnished light in the living room, and the lights from the city that glittered through the windows. Vinnie did not know his way around at all. He’d only ever been in the front part. There was a dark hall. He saw Sonny in his white shirt at the end of it turning left. Slowly, he followed.

At the end of the hall, turning left also, he entered a beautiful sitting room filled with mirrors. Couches lined two parallel walls. The overhead light had been turned on and gave off a muted pink glow. He moved forward into the room and saw, at the far end, another door standing slightly ajar. He walked up to it and could see through the two inches of opening that the next room was an elaborate bathroom with dark marble counters containing two large sinks under a huge mirror. That was all he could see. That, and Sonny in his white shirt and black trousers standing over one sink, leaning hard on the palms of his hands. It seemed he was struggling to breathe. He took a deep breath and it came out hard with a quiet but strangled groan, then another, then another.

“Sonny?”

Sonny turned abruptly. His leg came up and he kicked the door shut with a loud bang right in Vinnie’s face.

Vinnie felt the knot tighten…both knots actually. His arms and legs began to shake again. He turned around, seeing himself reflected again and again in the mirrors, and didn’t recognize himself. He half-sat, half-fell onto the nearest couch. He leaned forward, elbows on knees and put his head in his hands, combing his fingers through his hair.

Again he waited. For death. For pain. For vengeance.

About five long minutes later the door opened. Sonny strode out, glanced at Vinnie who said, breathlessly, “Do you want me to leave?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sonny said flatly. “I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”

Vinnie’s heart skipped a beat. But he merely nodded. Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer. Would he now become a prisoner?

Sonny glared upward and folded his arms across his chest. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled. “So, do you still work for me or not?”

Vinnie frowned. What a strange question. “I…I….”

“It’s a legitimate question, Vinnie. Either you work for them or you work for me. Who is it? FBI?”

“OCB.”

He winced. “We’ve been trying to get a guy in there for a long time.”

Vinnie looked at the floor when he said, “That would be like me asking you to come work for me. Betray all your friends and family. I would never….”

“I didn’t ask, did I?” Sonny interrupted, gruff. “I’m trying to figure things out, okay?”

Vinnie gulped, nodded.

“I mean, what right did you have to come to me tonight, to…to… and then…and then you tell me this!” His voice broke.

Vinnie sank his head into his hands. “No right. I had no right.”

“I don’t know what the truth is about you anymore. Christ! How many lies, what they are….” His voice stopped on a plaintive note.

“I can tell you, Sonny. I have the list in my head. Everything I’ve told you is true except I did finish college. I went to Quantico after for training. My mother never even knew until a few weeks ago, that’s how deep they took me. I really did do time for 18 months.”

“They made you do time for 18 months? For real?”

“It wasn’t that bad. They protected me pretty good.”

“Pretty good? That’s ok with you? Jesus, Vinnie! I protected you better than that!”

“It was my job.” He hurried on, trying not to lose his focus. “Also, I spilled spaghetti on you on purpose. I had been busing tables there for less than an hour. I targeted you. I let you win the fight after that. I didn’t come to kill you, or your brother, just stop you. Dave killed my first boss. I was more after him. When Dave was shot I tried to save him but he was dead as soon as the bullet hit him. That’s it.” He hung his head. “That’s it.”

“If I told you to leave right now, would you go running to your handler?”

That question reminded him. “There’s one more thing. I lied to you this morning. About my dream. Frank. He’s not dead.”

Sonny winced. “Oh God. It’s Frank McPike!” He turned away, fists at his temples again. “How could I be so stupid!”

“But,” he added weakly, “you asked what someone has to do to warrant a place in my dreams? I didn’t tell you…Sonny, the whole dream last night…it was about you, not Frank.”

Sonny just shook his head and turned and walked out of the room.

 

Vinnie sat for awhile before getting up, dog-weary, and following. He hadn’t eaten since lunch but didn’t think he could keep anything down anyway. It wasn’t all that late yet, but he felt like it was. It seemed hours had passed, or eons.

He entered the hall and followed it around a few feet. He found himself standing at the threshold of a huge master suite containing a king-sized bed strewn with about a dozen pillows, the spread shining in hues of gold and brown.

Sonny stood inside several feet away from the doorway, hands on his waist, staring at what seemed to be the far corner of the ceiling. Vinnie walked in, stopped about three feet behind him, and just stood. The room seemed frozen in time.

Finally Sonny turned, meeting his gaze with eyes that were now dark, unlit. “You know, that first time you walked into my office in that cheap jacket of yours I thought, ‘This one’s different. He doesn’t put on airs. He’s just himself.’ It was like I suddenly realized nothing around me was real. Except you. It was refreshing. And now I find out you weren’t even….” He didn’t finish. He clenched one hand into a fist, looked down at it, shook it. “I can’t believe you’re a cop,” he said through gritted teeth.

Vinnie looked away.

“Do you have a plan?”

Vinnie shook his head. “Not anymore. No.”

“What? You tell me this and you don’t even have a plan? You don’t know who you work for now, or do you? Are you going to go running off and tell them I know now?”

Vinnie said desperately, “Are you gonna tell everybody?”

Sonny sighed, clearly exasperated. “I’m not.” He shook his fist again but kept it at his side. “But don’t go thinking I’m soft. If I told anyone, what would that do to me? I’d look like the colossal fool they’re all hoping for so they can run me over, take it all away. That what you want to see?”

Vinnie began to relax, but only slightly. They were talking at least. “Sonny, I don’t think you’re a fool, but this business…. You run people over, too. You can’t just take whatever you want without the consequences. This world you’re in kills most men before they’re 40.”

“Not me, man. I win!”

“Yeah. You’re good. And the two of us….” He gulped. “I’ve thought about it. We’re a good team. But it’s still all gonna fall down, somewhere, someway.”

“Yeah, yeah, nothing lasts forever. Don’t go all philosophical on me.”

“Well, what about that comment you made in the car about goin’ out for cigarettes? Huh?”

His body jolted at that.

”And,” Vinnie continued, “what about this feeling you said you had, your encroaching death…Patrice…all of it. You know better! I don’t think you’re a fool, Sonny, but you sure as hell act like one sometimes!”

Sonny jerked away until his back was to him again. “There you go off, acting like you’re my conscience again.”

“No.” Vinnie took a step forward. “I’m not. I just care about you, dammit! I don’t even know how or why but I do. And it all got fucked up because of that, I guess.”

Sonny’s tone sounded dangerous. “But that was your job.”

“Yeah.”

“Your fucking job….”

“Out there,” he motioned to the living room. “Half an hour ago. It stopped being my job. That’s why I told you. I had to.”

Sonny made an exasperated sound. “I want to sleep with you and beat you to death at the same time. God! You’re makin’ me crazy, Vinnie,” he said, and moved past him, shoving into Vinnie’s shoulder as he passed, and headed once again for the living room.

As if he were leashed to him by the heart, Vinnie followed. Sonny was sprawled on the couch again, staring at the blank TV screen. Vinnie did not wait for an invitation. He sat beside him.

Minutes ticked by.

Finally Vinnie started. “Sonny….”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.”

More minutes ticked by.

“Damn, Vinnie.” He finally broke the silence. “You’ve seen me do things you could’ve arrested me for ten times over.”

“It’s your word against mine,” Vinnie said carefully.

“So you’re gathering evidence?”

“Information is more like it.”

“And then they use that information to set us up.”

“Of course. You already know this.”

“Yeah. It’s the same way I operate. It’s how I’m gonna get Patrice.”

“The OCB would love to get their hands on Patrice.”

Sonny contemplated that for a moment. “What about me?” he finally asked.

“The same.” Vinnie sighed. “But Sonny, I want you to know something. I swore to myself quite some time ago that I’d do everything in my power to protect you.”

“Why? How? How’re you gonna do that if at the same time you’re betraying me?”

“It’s Steelgrave Enterprises they’re after. And whoever’s at the helm. I could give a crap about your precious empire.” Had he really just said that? “But you, as cruel as you can be sometimes, as vindictive, vengeful…I still don’t want to see you destroyed.”

“Why not? It’s your job to destroy me.”

Vinnie’s voice shook as he replied, “And it’s your job to whack traitors to your cause.” 

Sonny dropped his head into his hands. “How you must despise me. You know I can’t kill you, Vinnie. You of all people!”

This sudden confession actually surprised Vinnie. And yet it didn’t. Whatever was between them complicated everything. It put a spin on what should have been the simplest decisions on both their parts.

“I don’t want to destroy you. And I don’t despise you. Only some of the things you’ve done.”

Sonny bent his head and pounded fists to temples again.

“Frank once asked me if I’d be able to do it, kill you if I had to. I told him yes but it was just to get him off my back. It was a conscious lie.”

“Don’t pretend anymore, Vinnie. If I had a gun to your head right now you wouldn’t defend yourself?”

“Maybe. But don’t you see? Now…now it’s all changed. It would destroy me either way. And if you try to tell me again that you feel differently, that either one of us dead wouldn’t badly affect the other, then I would ask you again why you haven’t already had your goons take me out to the middle of nowhere.” He cleared his throat. “It’s because it’s too late. We’re already under each other’s skin. Go ahead. Lie to me. Tell me again that I’m wrong. Any excuse will do because no matter what it is I won’t believe it.”

Sonny, head still in his hands, did not respond.

“Everything’s changed,” Vinnie said. “I can’t go back.”

Sonny looked up. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying that here, with you, I’m not a Federal agent. I never will be again.”

For a long time they both just sat there, Sonny with his head in his hands, Vinnie staring at the wine and thinking about when Sonny had poured it and they had in that moment practically been thinking each other’s thoughts. How desperate they were for each other, and how long ago that seemed now.

Now when Vinnie tried to read him there were only walls. Craving more contact, he said, “Sonny….”

Abruptly, Sonny stood. Vinnie reached out on impulse and touched his hand. It was as hot as his own. Sonny turned, looking down at him, the dim city lights sparkling in his hair. For a moment, Sonny’s hand clasped back, hard. Then, as if burned, he pulled it away, inhaling sharply. “I wish you’d never come into my life,” he said, and walked back toward the hall.

Vinnie bowed forward, blinking back hot, unshed tears.

 

*

 

“Like the pages of a long debate  
continuing...”

\--Abba Kovner

 

THE WAR INSIDE: PART II

 

“All we do is for this frightened thing  
called Love...”

\--Allen Ginsberg

 

Vincent-the-redeemer.

“You have one fatal flaw. You see the good in people. You look for what’s redeemable,” Frank had said.

Maybe Frank was right.

He leaned back on the couch he had earlier told Sonny he never wanted to leave. It smelled of clean leather, and a little of Sonny. What was it? Now he thought maybe he could define it. Sonny’s scent, like summer rain in a desert, cool and hot at the same time.

So what if he saw people as human and not as their labels given to them by others who needed to shuffle and file them in their proper place? So what if he saw through flaws to the soul’s core? Wasn’t that a better way to function on this asylum called Earth? Maybe it wasn’t easy, but it was the right way to live. His mother taught him that very young. It was one of the reasons he wanted to become a cop. He thought he might be able to help make things better, instead of contributing to the problems of society. Frank had called him a gentle soul. That didn’t mean he also wasn’t strong. That didn’t mean he excused wrong-doing in those he met. Although he did see Sonny sometimes as a victim of his own upbringing, of his father and older brother, of his inherited need to keep the family name alive, he did not excuse Sonny of responsibility.

And Sonny made no excuses, either. Sonny had acknowledged this. Vinnie could see it clearly now. Why else on Earth would Sonny ever blurt out something so personal only a little more than 24 hours ago? “My shadow has a conscience.” And, “It’s like you came from inside me and formed into a man, my shadow, a spirit, my soul….”

If Vinnie was not the good man Frank said he was, then he could just leave those incredible statements unacknowledged, pretend they meant nothing, act as if they weren’t, in fact, more real than he could wrap his mind around. Because he felt it, too. My soul…. And that was real. Not this game of chessmen in expensive suits vying for territories they could never truly own. And not the pawns that tried to take them down in the name of the law.

Vinnie saw this more easily than ever now. And Vincent-the-redeemer knew Sonny saw it, too. Sonny was no one’s fool. His comment about going out for cigarettes had not been made lightly. There was something inside this heir prince of Atlantic City that knew there was more to life than power, fear, control. There was a man who valued honor. There was at least some semblance of conscience.

Those were only some of the reasons why Vinnie had had to tell him he was a cop.

And then there was also that other major reason. The secret that had, for a long while, been flickering and sparking between them. The secret and the weapon.

Love.

His eyes burned and he pressed the palms of his hands to them.

Slowly, he got up. He did not know how much time had passed. The living room seemed to hum with muted tones of gold. The city lights were like quasars pulsing in and out of time.

He glanced around. Where had Sonny gone this time?

He listened hard but heard only silence.

Turning, he headed for the dark hall again.

The night was far from over if he had anything to say about it.

 

Sonny sat in the semi-darkness propped on elegant pillows on his luxurious king-sized bed. Vinnie saw him then as a shadow, almost unreal, blending with night and silence, almost as if he were trying to disappear. He seemed, in this personal, pristine, expensive place, so very much alone. The nearly maniacal brightness that made so many defer to him was strangely dimmed.

Vinnie approached him.

Sonny glanced in his direction and held up his hand. “I give you permission to leave now,” he said firmly. “As if you need it.”

Vinnie froze. “I don’t need it.”

“Then why aren’t you gone?”

In answer, Vinnie strode forward, sat abruptly beside him and grabbed, none too lightly, at Sonny’s upper arms. He pushed Sonny back against the pillows with his weight and kissed him hard. His desperate act surprised him as much as it caught Sonny totally off-guard.

At first Sonny did nothing. Vinnie moved his lips and deepened the kiss. Then Sonny jerked forward, pushing against Vinnie’s chest. Vinnie’s hands tightened and as they did he felt a fist impact with his ribs, not hard enough to bruise, but hard. Sonny turned his head angrily. “Don’t!”

Vinnie let go for a moment as Sonny struggled to sit up, then Vinnie put his arms around him.

“Damn you!” Sonny pushed at him again, losing his balance and falling back, taking Vinnie with him. He put his hands flat against Vinnie’s chest again, but just left them there, staring up at him blankly. He didn’t push, and Vinnie used the opportunity to kiss him a second time. Sonny turned his head again, gasping for air. “Son of a bitch!” he hissed. But as he said it his hands moved with a sudden firmness from Vinnie’s chest to his back, and Vinnie felt himself pulled close until they were chest to chest.

Sonny held him hard as if he were clinging to the only raft in a raging sea. He buried his head in the crook of Vinnie’s neck.

Vinnie didn’t move. He could feel Sonny’s hot breath against his shoulder and neck. He could smell the desert rain of this man. Of. This. Man. For this man. This man who thought he had no soul.

Vinnie rubbed his cheek against Sonny’s hair. “I can’t leave you,” he whispered, then lifted the rest of his body onto the bed and lay full-length against the other man. Sonny was physically aroused, no question. Vinnie had been, too, off and on all night. But that was the least of it. Something so much more than that was happening between them.

Someone turned. Who turned first? He couldn’t remember. But they were kissing again, pressing hard, meeting each other more than half-way. How do you merge with that which is separate but feels like it’s not?

For a long time they struggled that way. To an onlooker, Vinnie thought it might look like they were fighting. Wrestling. Pushing. Shoving. Grabbing. In reality, they just couldn’t get close enough. The arm of Vinnie’s dress shirt tore at the shoulder. Their breaths came short and fast, not from anguish or pain, but from impassioned devotion that had already turned a corner headlong into mindless desire.

Sonny’s hand dug into Vinnie’s still fastened trousers. But that was after Vinnie realized, without an ounce of guilt, that the zipper on Sonny’s thousand dollar silk suit pants had already broken beyond repair from his own desperate clutches.

They grabbed, they stroked, they pressed, they thrust. There wasn’t a chance in either of them for more than that right now. Sonny clutched Vinnie, pressing himself against his belly, crying out in what sounded like surprise…or utter shock. Vinnie thrust back into a waiting hand and lost his breath. His head spun and he thought he might pass out. It was over too soon, this journey, this star burst, this nightmare turned dream.

They lay in a wreck of their own making, white shirts in tatters, torn trousers twisted at the knees. Arms around each other. Jaw to jaw. Still unable to let go.

Slowly, over time, their breathing deepened from shallow to relaxed. Their hearts slowed. The sweat on their skin dried.

Sonny pushed himself up on one arm, looking down. “Christ, Vinnie. Is this what happens when a guy lets you buy him a drink?”

“No,” Vinnie said. “This isn’t what happens. This never happens. Until now.”

Sonny lay back down, pressed against Vinnie’s shoulder. They dozed for awhile until it got uncomfortable and twisted and knotted, and they had to undress all the way or sleep in a tangle of rags. At one point, Sonny got up to turn on the air and cool down the room. Then they got under the covers on smooth, satin sheets and slept the deep sleep of the righteous and the damned.

 

He had a dream.

He and Sonny stood dressed to the nines. Perfect gentlemen. Side by side. A man bowed before them, on his knees in loose gravel. Sonny had the firearm. Vinnie’s hands were empty. The man sobbed and groveled. Then he looked up.

First it was Sid. Then it was Patrice. Then it was Frank McPike.

Sonny smirked and flicked off the safety, put the gun to the man’s head.

Sid said, “I’ll do anything. Anything you want!”

Patrice said, “You don’t have the guts.”

Frank said, “Shoot.”

Sonny turned to Vinnie who shook his head. “There are other ways,” Vinnie said.

Sonny stood very still, then pressed the safety, took the gun away from the man’s head and put it back in its holster.

Together they turned and walked away.

 

Vinnie jerked awake. For a few seconds he forgot where he was.

Then Sonny’s hand pressed lightly against his hip. “What is it?” he asked sleepily.

“Nothing.”

The hand on his hip moved up across ribs, over his shoulder and touched the side of his head. Fingers pressed his thick hair back from his temple. “Nothing,” Sonny said softly, “usually turns out to be something.”

Vinnie pressed into that touch and bowed his head. Their foreheads touched. He was so tired. He said, “Just a dream. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“The morning. That’s when it’s gonna be even harder on both of us,” voice a little slurred.

Vinnie shut his eyes. Sonny was talking logistics. Everything had changed. And neither of them knew yet what that really meant.

He made a wish: Let this night never reach the end.

He slept again.

 

He woke to hushed darkness and felt suddenly alone. Thinking of his dream of Sonny torturing him from the previous night, he took a quick breath and almost started to panic. He was partially on his stomach, partially on his side, one knee bent up. He stretched out both arms on either side of the bed and felt nothing. He lifted himself up on an elbow and blinked into the dimness. He saw vague shapes: the heavy curtains, a tall bureau, two chairs. He listened intently but heard nothing.

Then finally there was a whisper of air, a shift. He felt the covers move, the mattress bob.

“Sonny?” He was glad to note he’d kept his voice from shaking.

“What?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Brazil,” came the answer.

Vinnie lay back down on his side trying not to wonder about too many things at once. But he couldn’t help himself. What had he been thinking last night? Where was he going? What in the hell were they going to do after tonight?

Sometimes he could read Sonny so easily. Other times not so much. And why did that scare him right now? He must’ve sighed. Or groaned. Or something. Because an arm suddenly draped over his back. Another arm snaked under his ribs. The hug pulled him forward and Sonny pushed his whole body up against the front of him as he leaned down and, for the second time in one night, kissed Vinnie on the cheek. “You’re shaking. What am I gonna do with you?”

Vinnie answered by tightening his own arms around Sonny’s waist. Warmth flowed from his chest to his groin, stirring him.

Whatever was between them was simultaneous and instantaneous. Temperatures rose. Sonny pushed his knee between Vinnie’s legs, bringing them closer, then kissed Vinnie on the lips, mouth open, demanding. Vinnie lifted one hand to the back of Sonny’s neck and kissed back, bruisingly. It wasn’t nearly enough. And they were back at it again, the wrestling, the pressing, the touches everywhere they could reach leaving their skin fevered and tense.

Very few words were spoken. A few “damns,” some “yeses,” followed by various gasps and groans.

When Vinnie wasn’t kissing swollen lips, he was kissing and licking anywhere else he could reach. He pushed his hand between Sonny’s legs where he was hottest and hardest, then bent at the waist until he could kiss what he held, and lick. Then Sonny was thrusting into his mouth, fingers tangled in Vinnie’s hair, gasping like a man dying. His cry was sharp and aching. And wonderful.

Vinnie felt himself pulled up and hands clutched him, shoulders and head against a broad chest. He felt the chest shake as if from silent gasps, or laughter. He lay still that way, listening to that heart pound, until Sonny slowly relaxed, regained some control.

Sonny pushed him onto his back then, ran his hands up and down Vinnie’s chest. This time the kiss on his mouth was a flutter. A hand touched his cheek and softly stroked. Sonny’s breath washed over him. “I think I can’t get enough of you,” he said, stroking Vinnie’s neck, his shoulder, then kissing there, too, then lower.

Vinnie felt the room spin. He was impossibly aroused, and Sonny’s words more than the touch made him crazy. Sonny’s palm stroked him, long and powerfully; his head dipped and the hot mouth touched him. He tried to raise himself on his elbows, grab at Sonny, at anything, but he couldn’t. All he could do, with hardly any breath left, was say shakily, “I can’t….” and twist his body into the man beside him, and come.

His body shook. His voice shook. “I can’t…. I can’t…. I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, you can.”

Arms wrapped around him. They lay again clutching each other for what seemed like hours. Vinnie felt his hand fall asleep and didn’t care. He wasn’t going to ever let go.

When had anything felt like this before? He wasn’t a prude. It’d been good in bed with women he felt deeply for. He’d even had a serious, two-year relationship in college. But none of it had ever been like this. Not the best sex and not the strongest feelings. Nothing matched this conflagration. Was it because it was forbidden? Because they were so deeply engrossed in playing for stakes involving life and death? Because they were on opposite sides of a reality that required them to be enemies? Because Sonny was a guy? He’d never even really looked at guys that way before. In prison some guys got desperate and went for each other. He had no judgments about that one way or the other, except where rape was concerned and that he couldn’t stand for. But as far as sex with a guy? Vinnie had never even felt a twinge the whole 18 months.

But Sonny was different. Why had they become so close so fast as friends? It was very early on when he had joined the Steelgrave empire that he remembered feeling he wanted to be near Sonny as often as possible. And he thought about him all the time, always convincing himself it was because of the job.

The job.

He had thought so highly of himself. He knew he was quite appealing to Sonny, too, because Sonny requested his presence often, and they did fun things together as well as the work. But his appeal, his charm, was his work. He turned it on on purpose. He made himself into the kind of guy who was another guy’s guy. Best friend. Confidant.

And he paid for his arrogance by falling himself for the guy who gave as good as he got. Sonny was a generous man. He returned Vinnie’s affection two-fold. It was his nature. And Vinnie had fallen into his own trap. Fallen hard. Down the well. Into echoing darkness. Into the heated embrace of total agony. All of it defined by one word: love.

That was when he knew he’d never truly known love. He’d only been a player.

And Sonny played, too. Ogling the women. Mistaking quick pleasures for something real. Addicted to power and using it to bully because of the thing that was missing inside him. Because no one had ever just given him anything in his whole life without asking for something in return.

Until Vinnie came along.

And now, that was another reason Vinnie could never go back. Even if everything went wrong, even if Sonny suddenly changed his mind, threw him out, he never wanted to see Frank again, or hear Lifeguard’s cheerful voice. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Not after this. Not after having been handed the most cherished gift of his life.

Oh yeah. He’d fallen. No, he’d crashed. More than once. The first time he crashed straight into the enigma and spilled spaghetti all over him. This time, it wasn’t with a plate full of spaghetti, but with his heart in his hands.

And there was no going back, and nothing he could do about it now.

 

Even through the thick curtains, morning light managed to filter into the room, alighting on dust particles, bronzing the air.

Vinnie woke blinking, feeling all along as if he’d only been half-asleep, but then realizing he must have completely passed out because Sonny wasn’t with him anymore and he hadn’t even felt him leave. He sat up, feeling slightly light-headed, and saw the other man sitting at the foot of the bed.

The dark silhouette came into focus, posture tall, regal even, and fully dressed from head to toe in a black Armani suit. He turned when Vinnie shifted in the bed, held out something in his hand. 

Vinnie saw a neatly folded jogging suit.

“Here,” Sonny said. “Your suit is ruined, except for maybe the jacket. I couldn’t find your tie. You can wear this.”

Vinnie took the clothes. “When did you get up?”

“Maybe an hour ago. I couldn’t sleep. I have too much to do today.”

Vinnie thought possibly nothing had changed. Then he realized he was being stupid. Sonny’s tone told him everything. He was worried. That meant he was feeling something and that meant that Vinnie wasn’t going to be thrown out on his ass. At least not yet.

It was time for another decision. Vinnie took a breath, held it. Then he said, “Yeah, so do I. I have that meeting with Patrice.”

Sonny looked at him sharply. “Are you working for me?” he asked, voice low.

“Sonny, you know I’ll do anything you need me to. But for you. Not for any other reason.”

“You know I want him bad. He was a menace as a kid and he’s even worse now.”

“I know.”

“I’ll walk you downstairs. Change into your best suit. Do you want to shower here?”

Vinnie, already shrugging into the loaned clothes, shook his head. “No, but I will use your bathroom.”

When he came out, unshaven face washed and still a little damp, he moved slowly down the hall. Sonny stood at a table near the bar which led to a huge kitchen, the perfect gentleman in the perfect suit, and handed him a plate with fresh buttered toast. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d put a whole half into his mouth. He realized he was famished. Sonny handed him a large glass of orange juice and Vinnie downed it without taking a breath. He grabbed the other piece of toast and chewed, looking up. Sonny was watching him.

“Thanks,” was all Vinnie could think to say, still chewing.

Sonny’s eyes glanced away. “The clothes fit.”

Vinnie nodded.

He found his shoes in the living room and slipped them on without socks, which seemed to have disappeared with his tie. The shiny black leather shoes were ridiculous with the jogging suit, but they’d get him to his rooms where he could finally shower and change.

When he and Sonny walked out the door, the guards at either side of the long corridor barely took notice. The elevator was there. It took a few seconds for it to stop at the next floor where Vinnie’s room was. He stepped out, then turned when it occurred to him Sonny was letting him go. He put his hand against the side of the entrance to keep the door from automatically closing. He felt something swell behind his eyes. Panic? Worry? Mistrust? He thought he might have even visibly paled.

Sonny did not look away. “Be careful,” he said. Then he smirked slyly, but Vinnie knew it was a smile. The first one he’d seen on that face since he’d told him he was a cop.

His heart began to beat more normally again.

Vinnie nodded, then turned and walked away. He heard the elevator doors close behind him.

It was a new day.

 

He had some time to kill. The drive to New York City would take him two and a half hours. Two hours if he exceeded the speed limit. His appointment with Patrice was for one o’clock.

By the time he’d showered, shaved and changed, it was only 9:00 a.m. If he left now, he’d be early. On the other hand, he didn’t want to be late. And there was always traffic.

Still, he didn’t want to leave. Every fiber of his being fought this assignment. Was it because of last night? Or was it more instinctual? Cop instincts? He felt strongly that he did not want to leave Sonny alone here right now. But why?

He got in the elevator and started to hit the button for the parking garage, then changed his mind. He wanted to walk through the Steelgrave offices once more. He needed to see that everything was normal.

He got off the elevator and was greeted by familiar faces. Some said “hi.” The secretary said, “Oh, hi. Mr. Steelgrave’s in his office. And your Uncle Mike called.”

“Thanks.” He ignored the Uncle Mike message. It was like a normal day. They expected him. They welcomed him. And no one suspected a thing.

He knocked and heard Sonny say, “Ok!”

And there stood Sid near the open door, saying, “I’ve never heard of this routing number! And a transfer of that amount is unwarranted.”

Sonny turned to Vinnie. “What is it, Terranova?”

“I…I need a few hours for a personal errand.”

“Whatever. Go ahead. And you, too, Sid. You’re like a leech! Get out of here.”

Sid turned red in the face and puffed out his chest. But he left closing the door behind him.

Sonny narrowed his eyes. “Vinnie?” he said softly.

“I just wanted…. I just needed….” He gulped. “I’ll go now.”

Sonny hurried to the door and pushed the lock. Vinnie followed him with his eyes.

Sonny came up to him. “You’ll be ok. I’ll make sure.” He put his hand on Vinnie’s forearm.

“That’s not it. I need to know you’re ok.”

Sonny pursed his lips. Nodded. “I’m fine. I might beat Sid to death with a fountain pen if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Vinnie’s body felt hot again where Sonny touched him. Then all over. Sonny’s face darkened. Vinnie realized it was flushed. At the same time, they both leaned forward into a natural embrace. The kiss seared his lips.

Finally Sonny pulled away. “Ok,” he said. “You gotta go. We’ve wrecked enough suits already. And if you show up with creases where they shouldn’t be, Patrice will notice.”

“I’ll be back before five,” Vinnie said.

When he left, he was so sure the heat of his body showed all over his face. But no one seemed to notice. Everyone was busy. The world actually went on.

 

Walking into the lion’s den. That’s what it felt like.

And here he was again, a player making the moves on a powerful man, using whatever it took to get him to like him. Charm. Sparkle. Brains. Ruthlessness.

Not for the first time, he realized what he was doing…yet again…with a strange kind of shame. Add to that the fact that though Sonny and Patrice ran similar businesses with cutthroat tactics, that’s where the similarities ended. Patrice was nothing like Sonny Steelgrave. Where Sonny was generous and genuinely even liked, Patrice was conniving and dreaded. Where Sonny’s humor and temper might run you over, even leave you for dead, Patrice had no humor, and might just kill for no reason at all. Sonny ran hot and cold. Patrice just ran cold. Admittedly Sonny did not always fight fair, but Patrice fought not only behind your back, but often for no gain at all.

There was nothing Vinnie had that he knew of that he could offer Patrice, except Sonny. It was his only card. No back ups.

Patrice met him at his night club. It was closed for the afternoon, not due to open until 6.

Vinnie was admitted by guards who expected him. He was on time and his suit was creased in all the right places.

“Ah, Vincent, good to see you again,” Patrice greeted him looking as if he’d just walked right out of a page of G.Q. Not a hair out of place. The suit nearly glowed. The voice was flat, toneless.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Patrice.”

Patrice nodded, eyes glinting. “Sid is doing well over there, eh?”

“I guess. I don’t work with him.”

“Well, it’s nice to have him there. It’s like having security on my returns. He keeps me well-informed…on many levels.”

“Yeah, he drives Sonny crazy.”

“Does he?”

Patrice motioned to a man behind the bar. “Drink, Vincenzo?”

“Thanks. I’ll take a whiskey.”

Patrice held up his hand. The bartender brought two drinks in less than 20 seconds.

“Sid seems to think, well, maybe you are getting tired of working in Jersey.”

“My family is in New York,” Vinnie replied.

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m a Brooklyn kid. I grew up here.”

Patrice nodded. “And loyalties run deep?”

“Maybe. Depends.”

“Oh what?”

“Loyalty works both ways. If I get what I need, I’m loyal.”

“And does Sonny give you what you need?”

Vinnie actually smiled at that. “He pays me more than I need.”

“And if I paid you more? Theoretically speaking, of course. And taking into account that you are not as happy as you might wish to be in your current circumstances.”

“Taking that into account, if it were true, loyalties might be known to shift,” Vinnie agreed.

“So. If I were to shake your hand right now, it would mean a shift to my payroll, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to shake on it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since our last meeting, Mr. Patrice, and I believe I would.”

It all felt so false. Vinnie held out his hand. Patrice’s cold clammy palm met his. It was truly disgusting and he felt his stomach tense.

“Now I want you to go back there and lay all that unhappiness aside for a little while longer. You were friends before, correct? Get him alone, out, away from his office. Do whatever you have to. We’ll be watching. When we come for him, you will step to the side, do nothing. And that will be that.”

Vinnie touched the sides of his still untouched drink.

“Think you can do that?”

He nodded.

Patrice stood up. Very lethargically, he looked over his right shoulder. “Rickie? Donnie?”

Two very large men flanked him instantly. All Patrice did was put his head back, then forward, and the goons had Vinnie out of his chair with his arms pinned behind his back before he knew what hit him.

Patrice took a step forward, then spit in his face. The spit went all over his suit jacket. “I despise a traitor.” He turned his back on Vinnie and started to walk away. “I don’t care what you do to him,” he called back, “but make it permanent.”

Before he could even react, the two men hauled Vinnie up and off his feet, dragging him toward the back of the night club. Reality returned and Vinnie realized he had willingly walked into a well-made trap. Now he was probably about to die. He fought, struggled, yelled.

They took him, kicking and twisting, to a small room in back stacked with boxes and an old desk chair in the corner. There was a sheet of wrinkled painter’s plastic on the floor. He didn’t want to step on it, and he kicked harder, his feet bunching it up. Panic welled and he fought harder.

“Hey,” one of the goons yelled. “We don’t wanna mess up the carpet now, do we?”

Finally they let him go. He almost fell, but stood and turned around to face them. The two goons stood blocking the door, grinning.

One said, “Steelgrave’s right hand. I know guys who fantasize about just this moment. We should savor it, shouldn’t we, Rickie?”

Rickie, one of the biggest guys Vinnie had ever seen, said, “Oh yeah.”

Vinnie gritted his teeth. “You know Sonny will chop you up into little pieces and have you for dinner.”

“Oh, but Sonny will be happy we caught the traitor. It will be like we’re giving him a gift he didn’t know he wanted.”

But Vinnie barely heard them. He was thinking: Two and a half hours away. He’s two and a half hours away. Even if he somehow could know what was happening, it would be too late. Because Vinnie knew with these two guys he would not be able to last that long.

 

He managed to get in a few good punches. His boxing days were not wasted. But when one big guy held your arms while the other big guy pummeled your ribs, your stomach, your kidneys, your testicles, it was almost a waste of energy to struggle.

Something hard struck his eyebrow. He felt warmth flow into his eye.

One guy said, “Don’t hit him in the head. I want him conscious when we take him out to the docks.”

One punch to his side was so hard he saw stars. They let him fall then, onto his hands and knees, where he began to retch, then vomit onto the plastic.

It was interesting, the feelings that ran through his mind now that he knew he was going to die. It wasn’t fear, like he thought it might be. Or even regret. He was glad he’d had the chance to tell Sonny the truth. Glad they’d had one night that was theirs and theirs alone. No one could ever take that away. His only thought was not wanting to leave Sonny behind so soon. And it was a hard one. The hardest ever.

One of the goons grabbed the waistband of his trousers, yanking. Startled, Vinnie yelled out. He’d lost track of them, what they were doing, but heard one of them say, “Yeah, he is kinda pretty.”

Somewhere, off in the distance, he heard more yelling. Well, he thought, another guy like me is getting his.

The guy yanked harder and he retched again as the waistband gave way. Laughter. More yelling. Maybe even gunshots. And he prayed to God that he would just pass out once and for all.

The yelling got louder when he felt the guy cover him with his body. He thought it was his own voice. Such a ruckus. But then he realized he hadn’t yet even opened his mouth to scream and the guy on top of him wasn’t really doing anything; in fact, he wasn’t moving at all.

Vinnie shifted his weight and the guy fell onto the wrinkled plastic. He couldn’t move for a moment. All he could focus on was blood pooling on the plastic, making a thick, shiny pond of red. I’m dead, he thought. But the blood wasn’t his.

“Vinnie! Can you stand up?”

It couldn’t be. He had to be dreaming. The voice was too familiar. But two and a half hours away.

”Vinnie!”

Someone grabbed him under the arm. Rain in the desert. And he thought he’d start sobbing right then and there.

Sonny helped him stand with one hand; the other held a blurry gun. “Can you walk?”

“I don’t know.” All he could do was lean into that scent.

Sonny wrapped an arm around his back with his shoulder under Vinnie’s armpit, supporting him. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

And with Sonny helping, he managed to walk quite well. In fact, he couldn’t wait to leave.

He kept hold of his waistband to keep his pants from falling, and he did fine.

There were other men who seemed to be with Sonny, clearing the way. Bodies lay strewn on the night club floor. Most still appeared alive, groaning and moaning.

Before they made their way outside, Sonny yelled, “Patrice, you fucking scumbag! You owe Terranova a new suit!”

There was a limo parked very close. Sonny and another man helped Vinnie inside. Then Sonny gave orders. “You, take the Porsche. You, go with Tommy.” There were more orders but Vinnie felt himself start to fade away and heard no more.

He leaned against the limo’s leather seat, blinking, trying to remain aware. He turned, more awake when he saw Sonny get in and pound on the darkened glass for the driver to move. And then they were going away, fast.

Sonny sat alongside him and put his hand against Vinnie’s face, looking at him. Slowly, he realized Sonny was looking at the cut on his eyebrow. “Well, that might leave a scar,” he said. “Is anything broken? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I don’t think so.” He leaned back, felt his eyes roll up.

“Vinnie?”

He opened them again. “No hospitals,” he said. “They’d have to make a report. And I don’t want to see Frank.”

“You got it.”

Vinnie started to fade again, felt a supporting arm around him. He leaned into Sonny’s shoulder.

After awhile, he opened his eyes again. Things were fuzzy and he waited for them to focus. He turned and asked, “How’d you get here so fast?”

“Jesus, you didn’t think I’d let you go in there alone, do you? Pat the Cat makes Ted Bundy look tame. We followed you. Plus, I have eyes everywhere, Vinnie. And I got a car phone. When I got the call, we went in to get you. I would’a been there sooner but the bartender had to get to a phone without being seen, and that took some doing on his part. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Vinnie winced. “The bartender?”

“Yeah.”

“You planned this?”

“I thought Patrice would accept you. I mean, you are awfully irresistible. But he’s a wild card. So we followed just in case. Sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you might think I didn’t trust you.”

He thought again about it all. Sonny storming in. Shouting at the tops of his lungs. If it wasn’t so good to be rescued, he would think he’d gone completely insane. “I think you killed Rickie or Dickie or whoever that was on top of me.”

“Good.”

“But now Patrice is really gonna have it in for you.”

“Yeah, but you let me worry about that. I told you last night I’m figuring things out. You’re the one who said he didn’t have a plan, remember? But I never said I didn’t have one.”

And Vinnie remembered right after he’d told Sonny he was a cop Sonny had asked him just that, if he had a plan now. He’d been caught so off-guard, with no allies, putting himself on the line alone. Of course he had no plan. But Sonny still had everything at least for the moment, allies, money, power. And, anyway, Sonny was always ten steps ahead of everyone.

At that thought, Vinnie relaxed. Maybe things weren’t so hopeless. Hell, at least he was going to live a little longer now.

“Damn,” he said, leaning heavier against Sonny, “do you have any aspirin in this contraption?”

 

The first aid kit had everything. When Sonny put antiseptic on the cut on his forehead, it stung so bad he actually smacked his hand away. “Ow! The cure’s worse than the disease,” Vinnie complained.

“Sorry.” Sonny suppressed a grin. He finished by putting a small band-aide on the cut.

“Are you laughing at me?” Vinnie asked.

“No. Never.”

“I went in there for you. The least you could do is not laugh.”

“I know. And it got me thinking. I shouldn’t have….” His voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Vinnie.” Sonny turned toward him, serious now, and reached out touching his knee. “I shouldn’t have asked you.”

“I told you I’d do anything you needed.”

“Yeah. But, Vinnie, why do you let people use you? Even me. You’re better than that.”

The words threw Vinnie completely. He looked quickly down, shook his head as if a fly had just landed on his face. Then shook it again. He stared for a long time. There was a tear in the waistband of his trousers. The button was missing. The zipper still seemed to be intact, but the tear ran down in front of his stomach next to the zipper revealing white cotton briefs underneath. For a long moment he just stared at it. Not moving.

“Vinnie?” Sonny said softly. “What is it?”

“Christ, Sonny. I need another new pair of pants.”

 

It was two and a half hours back to New Jersey. They had a lot of time.

“But you know,” Sonny was saying, “the jacket’s still ok.”

“No way. Burn it. Patrice spit on it.”

“He’s an animal and I swear I’m gonna see him go down. But not before he buys you a new suit.” Sonny tipped back a bottle and drank.

They had found beer and wine in the limo’s fridge. Both had opted for beer.

Vinnie’s ribs and stomach muscles still fiercely ached, but he was beginning to feel a little better. The combination of aspirin and beer wasn’t bad. But his stomach was far too empty.

Vinnie grabbed another beer. Leaned back. “I’m so hungry.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I left that great breakfast you made me back at Patrice’s.”

“Well, then that’s another thing he owes you.”

They stopped for burgers. When the driver brought them back, they were on their way again.

“Did you know you inhale your food?” Sonny asked.

“Mmm,” Vinnie nodded.

When they finished eating, they leaned back and put their feet up on the couch opposite theirs.

It was nice to finally relax.

Maybe for the first time in 24 hours Vinnie felt safe. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t felt safe since the first day he went into prison. He turned and eyed Sonny, whose beer bottle was precariously balanced on his chest. His eyes were half-closed. Vinnie poked him with an elbow. The bottle wobbled. “Thanks,” he said.

Sonny turned his head to look at him. “For what, almost getting you killed?” When he spoke his eyes took on an unfamiliar sheen.

Vinnie frowned. “No. For keeping me from getting killed.”

“Yeah, right. For putting you in a situation where I have to keep you from getting killed. That’s great.” He leaned forward and put his beer bottle in a drink holder.

“Hey, I put myself in this situation. And don’t act like you don’t live it every day. And it’s way too late to regret the situation we find ourselves in now.”

Sonny fidgeted at those words, hands forming into fists, then releasing as they often did when he was agitated. He drummed his fingers on his stomach. But he said nothing.

Vinnie sighed and leaned his head back on the soft leather, closed his eyes. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until a bump woke him. His head was propped by Sonny’s shoulder. He straightened, putting his feet back on the floor, rubbing his forehead. The cut over his eyebrow throbbed.

Sonny was sitting in the same position although he no longer had his feet up. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“Like hell,” Vinnie answered, still rubbing his head. He felt Sonny’s hand on the back of his head, stroking softly downward. “Ok, better now,” he added. A short, soft laugh came from Sonny. Vinnie turned his head to look at him sidelong, and gave a wry smile.

Sonny met his gaze, grinned and rolled his eyes, then put his head back against the seat and chuckled. He grasped the back of Vinnie’s neck in a gentle squeeze, then took his hand away.

The sound of Sonny’s laugh when it wasn’t maniacal was intoxicating. Vinnie felt himself grow incredibly warm. And at the same time he wondered what it would be like to be happy like that all the time. The life of the underworld sure didn’t offer that kind of relaxed enjoyment. You played with danger and played for life and death, then you distracted yourself with the perks of wealth, perhaps, but it was so hard. And it made people hard and heartless. Everything became a negotiation for profit and revenge. Everyone used everyone else. Trust did not exist.

In the shadowy mists of this corrupt environment, Vinnie wondered how any of this between him and Sonny had ever happened. He wasn’t just thinking about the previous night, he was thinking about their entire friendship. How improbable was it that he could make a confession that he was a cop to a man of that underworld who held such a position of power and fear, and still live to see the sun rise? And not only still live, but have this man risk his very own life to continue to protect him?

It was so improbable, that several times in the past two days he’d wondered if he was really sound asleep somewhere and dreaming it all.

Vinnie stretched, felt his stomach muscles ache and flex. He said, “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

Sonny made a face. “You’ve heard me laugh a million times.”

“I guess. But it sounded different.”

“Sometimes I feel different.”

Vinnie nodded. “Me, too.”

They had said not one word today about their night together. Maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe there were no words. But anytime Vinnie thought about it at all, his heart seemed to stop, then restart with a jolting kick.

It seemed like no time had passed but there they were pulling into the garage. It was late afternoon already.

Sonny helped Vinnie out of the limo and did not take his hand away from his arm until he saw Vinnie could stand by himself. He had rolled the band of his trousers and tucked them so they wouldn’t fall, then buttoned his jacket. It worked; the jacket was long enough to cover all the tears.

When they got into the elevator Vinnie automatically reached for the button for his floor. Sonny clasped his hand and pulled it back, then hit the button for the penthouse. “You’re staying with me. Remember?”

“But my stuff,” Vinnie started to say.

“I’ll get what you need.”

For the moment he felt awkward, vulnerable. He wanted to be with Sonny, he wanted to be at the penthouse, but he also needed to clean himself up, and to regroup his thoughts. He was still hurting a lot, and being who he was he didn’t like to show it.

The doors opened into the long hall. This time there were more guards. They did not really look at Sonny or Vinnie as they entered the penthouse. And Vinnie tried not to notice as well. But he did. Six or eight, at least. This thing with Patrice was over the top. There was no doubt now that the prince of New York City would do his very best to kill the prince of Atlantic City.

Vinnie thought about that, and wondered if he could do anything with his still unsevered connections with the OCB to help matters. But the last thing he wanted was any contact with those people right now.

Sonny opened the door and Vinnie followed, slower. Sonny pushed the door closed and moved further inside, not seeming to notice that Vinnie had stopped.

Finally Sonny turned around. “Vinnie?”

Vinnie did not look up. Too many thoughts slammed around his head. Too much, too fast.

A hand came to rest on his wrist, then clasped, pulling him forward. “Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Sonny led him by the wrist down the long hall and into the multi-mirrored sitting room. The light came on, gold diffused with pink. He pushed open another door and it led to a huge bathroom. Vinnie had been in that part of it, but only very briefly, and he had barely looked around. The marble counters were black flecked with gold. The taps were gold. The sinks were black porcelain. In a deep alcove recessed on the opposite wall was a black toilet, another marble sink, and the recess had its own door for privacy which now stood half open. Plush, soft rugs were placed strategically along the floor. Further across the room was another entrance Vinnie had not seen before. While Sonny let go of him and went to a linen closet, Vinnie moved forward to see where it led. And when he saw, his eyes widened. 

He faced the most elaborate shower ever. It was like a garden, and as large as a small bedroom. The walls looked like natural granite. One had a recessed shelf on which stood an array of products, shampoos, liquid soaps, folded cloths, soft back scrubbers. In each corner there were plants, green and lush. He looked up and realized they lived because natural light came through a massive skylight. Three shower heads protruded from one wall, two from the adjoining wall, at different levels. The floor was rough tile, again like natural rock.

He stared, only realizing his mouth was open when a light in the elaborate shower came on, golden and warm, revealing even more of its aesthetic luxury.

Something pushed against him and he turned. “Here. Clean towels,” Sonny said.

Vinnie took them, clutching at them tightly.

Sonny’s brows narrowed slightly. “When you’re done, we’ll take that suit and burn it, ok?” He leaned forward and kissed Vinnie softly on the cheek, then turned and left.

 

The shower was amazing. When he came out in just a towel, he saw a neat stack of clothing on the marble counter. His clothing. From his rooms. His favorite pair of jeans. A black t-shirt. His denim jacket. There were also socks and underwear neatly rolled.

He put on the clothes and felt a little better now. He also refastened his gold Rolex, an amazingly generous gift from Sonny that took on a new light now. He found a comb and ran it back through his wet hair, combing it away from his face. Then he turned and contemplated his second wrecked suit. It was on the floor. He picked it up and wadded it into a tight ball. There was a trash can by the door and he stuffed it all in there, and left.

Sonny was not in the sitting room or bedroom. He wandered down the hall, still stiff but not really limping anymore.

Sonny stood, leaning against the bar. With his back to Vinnie, he looked cool and tall and calm. He didn’t turn, so Vinnie said, “Hey.”

He saw the cool, tall, calm man jolt and quickly put a hand to the bridge of his nose. Fingers rubbed at his eyes as he turned. Everything seemed normal, but Sonny’s eyes were troubled; there was a kind of sad rage in them that made Vinnie catch his breath.

“You look really good,” Sonny said with a half-smile that did not quite reach those eyes.

Vinnie said nothing. He just went to him and put his arms around him. In return, he felt himself clutched in a powerful embrace. His ribs ached but he didn’t care. This time their kisses were soft, but still desperate.

Finally Sonny pulled back. He said, trying to keep his voice casual, “You know, when I first saw you at Patrice’s I thought I was too late.” He shut his eyes, lips tightening. His chest expanded. Then he sighed.

Vinnie pulled him closer. “No, Sonny. Your timing was perfect, as usual.”

Sonny let himself be embraced and was quiet for quite awhile, but then he moved back. “I hate to say this right now, but I have a ton of work to do.”

Vinnie blinked, dropped his arms, and nodded.

Sonny reached out, laying his palm against the side of Vinnie’s face. His fingertips touched Vinnie’s still damp hair, then his hand fell. “I’ll be back this evening. Make yourself at home. There’s stuff in the fridge.”

He left Vinnie standing there, staring at the closed door and wondering what in all the worlds they were going to do to remain not only together, but alive as well.

 

THE WAR INSIDE PART III

“The redeemer comes a dark way.”

\-- Theodore Roethke

 

It was almost unbelievable how well-stocked Sonny’s fridge was. Vinnie made himself a ham sandwich, grabbed a Coke, and went into the living room. He found the remote for the TV and turned it on.

The news was uneventful. Nothing else interested him. And he was agitated.

He finished his sandwich and took the dish back to the kitchen. Then he just wandered.

Sonny was an unfailingly fastidious guy. Of course he no doubt had a team of housekeepers. But in every closet he looked, everything was absolutely perfectly folded, creased, ironed, cleaned. Dresser drawers were almost alarmingly organized. For a bachelor’s pad, there was a curious lack of junk food wrappers, beer cans, games and dirty magazines. Although he did find one current issue of Playboy in a bedside drawer, and a box of condoms in a bathroom drawer. But other magazines he found were mostly business-related, like Forbes, Wall Street Journal, Business Quarterly. He also found a few Golden Gloves magazines, and an old issue of The New Yorker.

He did not feel guilty for snooping. Sonny would have expected it, or he would not have welcomed him here and left him alone.

Some shelves in the living room supported mystery novels and science fiction and a few true crime. There was a beautiful stereo surrounded by hundreds of titles of music from all walks of life.

One box on his dresser in the master suite held a handful of diamond cufflinks. Another held watches, rings, gold tie-tacks. There was a velvet box underneath all those things which he removed and opened. Inside was a gold St. Christopher’s medal, almost like the silver one his cousin Danny had been about to give him on his birthday before Danny had been murdered.

He had that silver medal in his own bedside drawer now. It meant much to him.

He could tell, as he looked into the box, and by the way it was stored, that this gold necklace was an item that was precious to Sonny. He wondered who had given it to him.

Strangely, he found no weapons. The only drugs he found were aspirin and cold meds. Sonny made sure his personal space was as legally clean as the casino offices where he worked.

After awhile he got tired of nosing around and went back to the living room and the comfortable couch. He turned on the TV again, flipping channels with the remote. When he started to doze, he decided he had earned himself a nap.

Back in Sonny’s suite, he turned down the covers on the king-sized bed. It had been neatly made. Had Sonny done that? Or had there been housekeeping while they were gone?

He took off his denim jacket and laid it across the back of a chair, undid the button of his Levi’s, and lay down. The mattress embraced him with soft satin and the lingering scent of rain. Before he knew it he was fast asleep.

 

Something touched his arm. There was a soft light coming from above. He turned over and opened his eyes.

It was more than good to see that face again.

He smiled wryly, sitting up. “I fell asleep.”

“I can see that.” Sonny sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

“What time is it?” Vinnie asked.

“About nine.” Sonny had taken off his jacket and tie. His shirt was undone at the neck. He looked fantastic. “Are you feeling ok?”

“Much better,” Vinnie replied.

“Did you get something to eat?”

“Yeah.”

“You had a few more messages from your Uncle Mike. I’m thinking he’s not really your uncle.”

“And you would be right.”

“Shouldn’t you call him? I mean, won’t he be missing you?”

“He’s used to waiting until I can get to a secure phone unseen.”

“You should call him. He might think I’m holding you prisoner.”

Vinnie let out a short laugh. “Aren’t you?”

Sonny winked. “Thought it was the other way around. Technically, you were stalking me all this time.”

Vinnie sighed. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Have it your way.” Sonny stood up then, disappointing Vinnie who was liking the nearness of him. “I’ll be right back.”

Sonny moved across the room and disappeared into the hall and out of Vinnie’s range of sight yet again.

In a few minutes, Vinnie got up and crossed to the sitting room and bathroom. When he entered, he heard the shower going. He used the facilities and then went back to the bedroom, taking off his t-shirt as he went. He thought about taking off his jeans, but suddenly felt self-conscious waiting in Sonny’s bed for him in just his underwear.

He got in the way he was, and turned onto his side facing away from the door. He pulled one of the pillows against his chest. He was still sleepy, and found himself dozing once more.

“Christ!” said a voice.

He jerked awake and pushed himself up on one elbow. Sonny was standing over him wearing a silk black bathrobe, hair still damp.

“Huh?”

Sonny pointed to Vinnie’s stomach. He had been dozing with the covers off, too hot again for his own good. He looked down.

A large red welt lined by purple and green bruises circled the front of his waist at bellybutton level. Sonny touched him gently on the side, just above his hip.

“Looks worse than it feels,” Vinnie admitted.

Sonny swallowed hard, then went around to the other side of the bed. He did something to lower the lighting, then got in. He scooted over to Vinnie and touched him on the chest. Vinnie wrapped his arms around him and realized Sonny was no longer wearing the black robe.

He lay back, saying, “I missed you.”

“Me, too.” Sonny bent to kiss him but Vinnie pushed him back slightly. “What?”

Vinnie’s brain felt sluggish. He wanted to ask Sonny so many things. But he couldn’t articulate them. Things were just going too fast. And yet, that wasn’t true. They had been close for months. What was happening between them had been sparking for quite some time. “Wait just a sec. I… I….”

Sonny’s eyes widened and he waited, patient, utterly still.

“Sonny, this…this. I don’t know what’s happening.” And there was that dry, rainy scent again. Hot. Cool. Hot.

Sonny said nothing.

“This isn’t… isn’t casual for me.”

Sonny grinned. “I know that.”

“But… I….” Vinnie swallowed, feeling his thoughts spin at Sonny’s nearness. Then his eyes closed. “Damn but you smell good.”

“I do?”

“You always have.” Vinnie opened his eyes in time to see Sonny duck his chin and look down at himself in response to Vinnie’s words. Vinnie moved forward in that instant, kissing him hard, tackling him with his body until Sonny was under him.

Sonny’s body shuddered and quivered beneath him. The other man was laughing again, low, real, relaxed. But it didn’t last long. “These are in the way,” Sonny said, tugging at Vinnie’s jeans. Soon they were doing some serious wrestling. The air grew damp. The windows fogged. Unclothed skin became slick and silken.

There was no antidote for this. No way to climb back up from this long fall they were caught in together. They were taking this journey all the way to the end now. All the way.

 

They had gone to bed early, so it seemed to make the night longer. Sleep, however, was not on their minds.

Now they were both laughing because they had eaten ice cream in bed out of the carton and made a mess. Sonny had said it was high time to change the sheets anyway. So they made up the bed with fresh sheets, put the ice cream aside, turned out the lights and managed to mess up the sheets again.

Sonny was gonna run out of them.

Later, in the stark middle of the night, they took a shower together. Vinnie was the first one in, ducking under the triple spray, pushing his dark hair straight back from his forehead. The bandage at his eyebrow held, waterproof apparently. Then he turned as Sonny entered, and leaned casually against the granite wall out of the way so Sonny could drench himself.

Sonny just stared at him where he leaned, dripping. “Do you even know how gorgeous you are?” he asked.

Sonny was looking fairly gorgeous himself. But Vinnie smirked. “Shut up. That’s not why you like me.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Sonny said, and moved into Vinnie’s waiting embrace. In the soft gold light of the shower, Vinnie could see, as they embraced and matched skin to skin, how olive his coloring was compared to Sonny’s dark gold. It was a nice combination.

“Besides,” Sonny continued, “who said anything about ‘like’?”

Vinnie chuckled. “What, you don’t like me?”

“No.”

They kissed under the water and moved against each other. “Christ,” Sonny whispered in Vinnie’s ear. “I’m going to be useless tomorrow.”

 

They finished what they started in the shower in bed. And fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs, covers pushed back to give the heat on their steaming bodies a chance to cool.

In and out of the clutches of sleep, Vinnie felt so powerfully content and, for the moment, so safe, that he couldn’t believe he’d been missing this for so long. Being like this made him feel as if he were the most privileged person on Earth. He rolled closer to Sonny, breathing him, wanting to merge with him. Sonny was snoring softly, but moved his hand very slightly with more pressure against Vinnie’s back. Vinnie pillowed his head on Sonny’s shoulder and drifted off.

The fog of sleep brought no dreams this time. It was so peaceful. But then, what were those voices? Contentment started to wane. He felt a slick body shift against him and opened his eyes.

Both men shot up into sitting positions in less than a second.

The penthouse suite was filled with cops.

 

Vinnie could not breathe. When he had sat up, trying to make sense of it, and of all the drawn guns, he found himself staring straight into the eyes of Frank McPike. He thought he heard Sonny mutter, “Jesus Christ,” but everything was muffled as his pulse rushed in his ears.

Frank’s eyes were narrowed behind his round, Mr. Magoo glasses. It seemed like no time had passed and it seemed like an eternity. Then Frank closed his eyes, shaking his head and yelled, “All right. McCabe, Hutchins, you stay. Everyone else out! Vincent Terranova and Salvatore Steelgrave, you are both under arrest.”

The room cleared and the two men who stayed brought out handcuffs.

“Let them get dressed, then cuff ‘em,” Frank said.

Sonny was already on his feet, clearly pissed off, going to his closet and slamming it open. He brought out another Armani suit and tore it off the hanger along with a dark gray-blue dress shirt. He dressed quickly.

Vinnie could not move. He still could not breathe. “Get dressed!” Frank commanded again.

Suddenly Sonny was there, handing Vinnie his jeans. He got right in Frank’s face and yelled, “Hey! You take it easy on him! He took a hell of a beating yesterday! Why don’t you bust those bastards, Mister…Mister…,” he grabbed at Frank’s lapel and pretended to read the badge. “Mr. Frank McPike of the OCB!”

Frank did not react.

One of the cops cuffed Sonny behind his back, pulling him roughly away from Frank and leading him not ungently from the room while reciting his rights.

Vinnie pulled on his jeans and quickly fastened them. His black t-shirt lay near the nightstand and he shouldered into it. He found his denim jacket on a chair and his leather shoes by the door. When he was ready, the cop cuffed him and Frank grabbed his upper arm and hustled him down the hall, quoting his rights in a boring, nasal tone of voice.

Vinnie saw Sonny leave in the back of one black and white. It was still dark, so not too many people had gathered in front of the casino, luckily. Frank pushed him toward another car and not very nicely.

Frank got in the front seat and said nothing all the way to station. There was nothing Frank could say. The driver was not aware of Vinnie’s cover, and what Frank needed to say could not be overheard.

When they got to the station Vinnie did not see Sonny at all. Frank escorted him to an interrogation room and as Vinnie turned around, the door slammed in his face. He was alone.

He went to the chair behind the table and sat, putting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He waited. And waited.

Finally a cop Vinnie did not know, male and in his twenties, came in to take down some info. Vinnie gave him the usual stuff he’d been trained to give while undercover. Then the guy left with the paperwork.

Vinnie waited some more.

When Frank came in he shut the door behind him hard, then just stood there. Vinnie looked up.

“You lied to me,” Frank said.

Vinnie said nothing.

“You. Lied. To. Me,” Frank said again.

Vinnie looked at the table, folding his hands in front of him.

“What, and now you’re not talking to me, too?”

Vinnie did not know what to say. He was so angry that Frank had done this. To Vinnie, it sure did seem to be something planned by Frank, done on purpose. There were so many other ways Frank could’ve gotten to Vinnie to arrest him. At least he could’ve waited until daylight. He was afraid if he opened his mouth now he would instantly regret anything that came out. He swallowed.

Frank walked around the desk and finally sat down. “Look at me,” he said.

Vinnie looked up.

Frank gestured toward Vinnie’s eyebrow, the small bandage. His voice lowered. “What happened? I saw bruises. He do that to you?”

Vinnie glared. “Don’t be an idiot, Frank.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No.” Now his hands, which had been folded tightly, were fidgeting with the tabletop. He ran his fingernails across the surface where they rested, scratching over and over again, digging.

“So, who?”

“Patrice.”

Frank nodded. “So why didn’t you call in? Lifeguard’s been calling for 2 days.”

“I couldn’t get away.” He was playing Frank now, and suddenly it was easy. He thought it might be hard, too hard. But damned if it didn’t come naturally.

Frank cleared his throat audibly. “You know, Vincent, when I said get in bed with the Steelgraves, I didn’t mean it literally.”

Vinnie’s hands smacked the table and he stood so rapidly the chair flew against the back wall with a bang. “What do you wanna know? What? I’ve given you everything! Dammit, Frank, why are you doing this?”

Frank stood along with him and put his palms flat on the table and leaned forward. “Because you lied to me, Vince. You stood there three days ago and you lied. I told you to your face what I saw about this going too far, and you lied!”

Vinnie started to laugh. “So, you gonna pull me off this case? After getting so much from me? You’re a fool!”

“You’re compromised!” He pitched his voice softer when he added, “To say the least.”

“How can you be so sure? What do you even know about what I’m doing?”

“I don’t know, Vince. But I have eyes. I saw you two, there, before you woke.” He looked away, sighing heavily. “Honestly, you’re not the kind of guy who would….” He trailed off. “Let me put it this way, you’re good at what you do but you’re not cavalier about it. Not about other people’s feelings. When he got in my face this morning, yelling at me to be careful with you….” He swallowed hard. “Vince, I’m not wrong.”

Vinnie turned away and leaned heavily against the cement block wall.

“You haven’t told him, have you?”

Vinnie shook his head, lying again.

“Were you planning to? Huh?”

“I…I have my oath,” Vinnie said hoarsely.

“You know you can’t ever tell. And you know if he found out you’re a cop he would probably kill you.”

“How could he find out?”

Frank shook his head worriedly. “Vince, you need to disappear. I need to take you from here now, without looking back, and you need to stay away for awhile.”

“I’d rather take my chances.”

“I’m not asking.”

Vinnie came back over to the table and stood over it. “Well, I’m telling you no!”

Frank stared. Then he said just three little words. “Oh. My. God.”

Vinnie turned on his glare again.

Frank started to pace and mutter. “I knew I shoulda pulled you three days ago. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it! I saw it in your face. You were going down. You were crashing. I’ve seen it before. Dammit.”

Vinnie still glared.

“I know it hurts, but….”

“I said no!” Vinnie repeated.

“Do you know what happens if you refuse an order from a superior?”

“Internal investigation,” Vinnie answer flatly.

“You could do real time.”

“Are you threatening me, Frank?”

“How can I threaten you anymore? I said ‘could do time.’ But you’ve got Sonny now. You are behind that thick wall of protection. I can reach in and pluck you out anytime I want, but I can’t make charges stick without cooperation or evidence. You know that. Plus he has the money, the lawyers, the power…. Oh god, Vince. You’ve fallen so far.”

“You act like it’s all black and white, Frank.”

“My God, who are you working for, Vince?”

The words so closely echoed Sonny’s same question to him. But then he remembered Sonny saying to him, “You let everyone use you. Even me. You’re better than that.” Vinnie thought quickly. He said, off the top of his head, “What if I told you I can get you Patrice?”

“Wh…what?”

“You heard me.”

A very tiny gleam came back into Frank’s bespectacled eyes. “How?”

“Sonny has a plan cooking.”

Softly, Frank said, “I would need to know more.”

“I know maybe my word isn’t good to you anymore, but if I gave it to you now….” He couldn’t finish.

“And you would do this in exchange for what?”

“Lay off Sonny. For now.”

“I am not at liberty to make deals like that, Vince, and you know it.”

“I know. But as a friend. Between you and me, Frank.”

Frank started to pace again. “Why are you pulling me into this? I must be crazy! You’re crazy! Jesus Christ, I almost had a heart attack this morning when I walked into that bedroom. I wasn’t expecting….” He groaned, exasperated, and took off his thick glasses and started to clean them on the hem of his jacket.

Vinnie took a step closer. “Don’t give me that shit, Frank,” he said. “You set me up. You knew. You could’ve found any number of ways to get to us today. You came in in the dark. You invaded my most personal space. I…I feel like you betrayed me!”

Frank looked up. “Oh, now, I wouldn’t do that, Vince.”

He gritted his teeth. “Oh yes you would.”

Frank scowled. “You’re just lost and confused.”

Vinnie felt himself come to a boil. “Why do you think you’re better than everybody? Do you think you own me? Do you think you can just step all over me because you’re my boss? That I won’t have any reaction? That I’ll just lie down for you and beg forgiveness? I did my job! But that doesn’t mean you own me. If I make a decision that is outside the job and you don’t like it, that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a bad person. That doesn’t mean you get to humiliate me in front of half the Atlantic City police force. Christ, Frank, you talk about Sonny like he’s sadistic. Well, I’m surrounded by sadistic people and he’s the least of them. I’m sick of it. So don’t lie to me. And don’t tell me you didn’t do this to me. You did it and I don’t know if I can ever forgive you.”

Frank put his glasses back on, then started applauding. “Great speech, Vincent. Or should I call you ‘Vinnie,’ Mr. Steelgrave’s firm right hand?”

Vinnie stepped forward and smacked him hard on those applauding hands. “Stop it, Frank! Just stop!”

Frank held his hands up in surrender. “Okay,” he drawled. “Okay, Vince.”

Vinnie turned away, eyes hot. “Damn, you’re just like Patrice, you know that?”

“Now that’s uncalled for,” Frank said.

Vinnie walked back over to the chair and sat down. He put his head in his hands and said, “I have never hated you, Frank. Until today.”

For a long while nothing was said.

Vinnie looked up when he heard the door knob turn. Frank’s back was to him, but he said, “Are you gonna give me Patrice?”

“I said I would.”

“All right, then.”

And Vinnie was alone again.

 

Someone came about five minutes later and escorted Vinnie to a jail cell. He walked with his head down and entered. He didn’t realize until the doors closed behind him that another man was in the cell, too. He glanced up, completely surprised to see Sonny. Was this Frank’s doing?

Usually, Frank made Vinnie sit for half an hour or so by himself before he released him on no charges.

Sonny said, “What…?”

Vinnie held his hand up, silencing him. He glanced around the cell, then back at Sonny. He brought his forefinger up to his right cheekbone, indicating surveillance. Sonny sat back down.

After a moment, Vinnie went over and sat next to him on the bunk. Neither said a word.

Sonny drummed his fingers on his knees.

Vinnie folded his arms across his lap.

For a whole hour they sat that way, never speaking, trying to ignore the heat that radiated between the inches that separated their shoulders, hips and thighs.

Incredibly, after all these years in the Steelgrave empire under his brother Dave, Sonny had never done time. He’d been arrested only very rarely and spent not more than an hour at a time in the jail awaiting release. No charges had ever been brought against him. This time was no different.

An officer came, then, and unlocked the barred doors. He escorted them outside where the sun was just rising into a green and orange sky.

A limo waited for them. Sonny’s limo. He said nothing as he opened the door and let Vinnie enter first. Then he climbed in, sat next to Vinnie, and they were going home.

“Well, that was fun,” Sonny said, leaning back.

Vinnie took a deep breath through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, great fun, eh?” Sonny added, eyeing him carefully.

Vinnie still said nothing.

“You know you had to have it out with him, Vinnie.”

“Yes.”

“Was it worse than you imagined?”

“Some.”

“Does he know I know about you?”

“No.” Vinnie turned to face Sonny now, apprehension making knots in his stomach. “And I promised him Patrice.”

Sonny grinned. “You know you’re a genius, Terranova. I think that will fit in very nicely with the plan I have in mind.”

Vinnie raised his eyebrows.

“It’s perfect, in fact.”

“You haven’t even told me….”

“I plan to tell you everything. I still have some work to do on it, but don’t worry about it. See? We still make a great team even when we’re not trying.”

Vinnie smiled back. Then he started to chuckle. The chuckle turned to a laugh that was so deep it almost hurt.

“What’s so funny?” Sonny asked.

The laughter made it hard to talk, but he managed to say, “He said to me….” More laughing. “Frank said, ‘When I said get in bed with the Steelgraves, I didn’t mean it literally’.” He leaned back, cracking up even more. He was giddy. The laughing started to hurt. He doubled over, wrapping his arms around his aching stomach, gasping. Hands came around his back and drew him close to heat, to cool rain. Sonny wasn’t laughing. He just held him until Vinnie could breathe right again.

 

Sonny lightly touched the side of Vinnie’s head. “That was a hell of a thing for him to say to you.”

“I deserved it.”

“You deserve better.”

They got out of the limo and entered the elevator. Sonny pushed the button for the office level. Vinnie questioned him with a look.

“There’s something I have to get,” he said.

There were only a few people at work at this hour of the morning, 6.A.M. But they all looked up, staring. “Hmmm,” Sonny said, “the rumor mill is already cranking.”

“Maybe I should go.”

“No. Come with me.” Sonny strode elegantly to his office in his perfect suit. Heads looked away.

In his worn jeans and t-shirt, Vinnie followed.

Sonny shut the door, then opened a door to a closet Vinnie had never known was there. The door had no visible knob. It looked like part of the décor.

He pulled out a large, black soft-sided suitcase. The lower edge of the suitcase had wheels. A handle protruded from the upper part. “Take this.”

Vinnie came over and took the handle, pulling it away from Sonny.

Then Sonny pulled out two identical dark blue duffel bags. “And these.” He looked up. “If you can manage.”

Vinnie grabbed one and put it on top of the suitcase. Then he took the other and slung it over his shoulder. It was heavy.

“Take them upstairs. Guard them with your life. That’s it.”

Vinnie frowned. “That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have a few more things to take care of, then I’ll be up. Don’t worry. The guards have orders to let you through.” He threw something gold at Vinnie’s free hand. “Here’s the key.” 

Vinnie left, laden with luggage. Heads turned and watched. He pushed the button for the elevator and as he waited he turned around and gave them all a glare.

Upstairs he had no trouble. No one even looked at him as he entered Sonny’s penthouse. Sonny must’ve been paying them far too much.

He lugged the suitcase and duffels inside and stashed them behind the bar. He thought it might actually look like he was moving in, but Sonny said not to worry. So he tried hard not to.

Since it was still mostly dawn, he poured himself a glass of orange juice instead of whiskey, then sat on a barstool and waited.

 

Sonny returned to the penthouse almost one hour later. Vinnie had dozed on and off sitting at the bar with his arms folded on the counter. He had been tired, but he didn’t want to go back into that bedroom just yet. And he had wanted to wait for Sonny.

He stood up as the front door closed.

Sonny approached him slowly. He stopped about two feet away. “I have a question,” he said.

Vinnie frowned. “Ok.”

“Can you guess it?”

He shook his head.

“I think you can.”

Vinnie was silent.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Sonny said. “We had a conversation a couple days ago.”

“We’ve had a lot of conversations in the last few days.”

“I was venting my frustrations in your car.”

Vinnie waited for more clues.

Sonny looked down. In his hands were folded papers and small folders. He placed them in a stack on the counter. Vinnie looked at them for all of a few seconds and then he knew. And what the hell had he stashed behind the bar? Vinnie swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “The part about going out for cigarettes.” It was a statement, not a question.

Sonny nodded. “And what I want to know is, will you go with me?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

They stared at each other intently, blue eyes to brown, until it became unbearable. When they came together, Sonny’s hands rose to cup the back of Vinnie’s head, fingers weaving into his hair. Vinnie’s hands went around Sonny and slid low, pulling them closer together.

They were out of bounds now, exploring unknown territory. But they were both used to that. Their respective jobs had put them in tenuous positions before. Sonny, the ever-careful planner, fastidious to a fault, thorough and unwavering, ten steps ahead of everyone else, seemed so different now from the man he’d first crashed into.

So different now when he looked into Vinnie’s eyes from where he crouched over him. Vinnie lay on his back on the bed waiting for Sonny to move. Sonny held himself upright with one arm, poised between Vinnie’s legs, while tracing the angry bruises on Vinnie’s waist. A strange kind of worry deepened in the dark eyes. Vinnie grabbed Sonny by the shoulders, pulling himself against the other man’s chest. Then, bracing against him, he lifted his hips, rocking back and wrapping his legs around Sonny’s waist. Sonny was already there, slick, hard. Vinnie was more than prepared. And it was perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Sonny wouldn’t have allowed it to be any other way. Finally he moved and Vinnie lost his breath.

Ten steps ahead of everyone else. Thorough. Unwavering.

Vinnie slumped back onto the pillows. Sonny moved with him, kissing the side of his cheek, pressing hard, breathing hard. Vinnie lifted his hips again, rocking. Soft words trickled into Vinnie’s ear. “Do you even know how much I love you?”

He could only grip Sonny’s shoulders harder as he felt control ebb, as he thrashed, as he came. Sonny cried out, a sound of disbelief and awe, and collapsed onto Vinnie resting his head on his chest. Vinnie ran his hands over the back of his head, then just held him.

Out of bounds. Unknown territory. He’d never known anything like this.

 

The world was not the same anymore. Everything looked different and yet nothing had really changed except Vinnie’s perceptions. The tin-man had a new heart, the scarecrow got a brain, and Vinnie had new eyes. And Sonny glowed with something he’d thought he never had.

Vinnie looked at him in wonder. How in any world could Sonny have ever thought he had no soul?

They sat at the bar looking over the papers. Sonny handed Vinnie a passport. It said, Angelo Santillo. Vinnie looked over at Sonny’s. Anthony Sabatini. Solid Italian names. No one would suspect anything strange there.

After they’d made love, Sonny had lain on his back with his head on Vinnie’s stomach, legs stretched out toward the side of the bed, and told him the plan. It was solid. It was imaginative. It was so completely Sonny.

What Vinnie had stashed behind the bar was what was left of the Zharatso brothers’ money that Sonny had stashed. They’d paid cash on the sly to use Sonny’s customs set up, and then been promptly arrested due to Vinnie’s tip-offs. Four million dollars cash, untraceable. No one but Vinnie even knew he had it, because no one but Vinnie had been at the meeting where the set up was discussed and payment made.

Sonny had used some of it for payoffs, but more than 3 million remained.

Vinnie had forgotten, although he didn’t see how he could forget something as huge as that. In fact, the cash that exchanged hands had not even been part of his report, because he remembered back then that he figured it would be a lost cause to even chase it. It was chump change compared to the whole Steelgrave empire. Ever finding it would be impossible.

Now it waited behind Sonny’s bar in one large suitcase and two medium-sized duffel bags.

God bless the Zharatso brothers.

Vinnie pocketed his new passport, driver’s license, social security card, and airline ticket. Sonny did the same.

“Ok, we leave tonight,” Sonny said. “We take nothing with us but this luggage and the clothes on our backs. It can’t look like we ever packed or planned this. Capish?”

Vinnie nodded. He had a couple of phone calls to make. One to his mother. One to Frank.

A sudden thought struck him. “I want one thing out of my room.”

“Show me.”

They took the elevator down to Vinnie’s suite and Vinnie went straight to the bedroom and the nightstand next to it. Sonny followed. He opened a drawer and took out a small box, opening it and handing it to Sonny. “From my cousin Danny for my birthday. He died before he could give it to me. I found it still wrapped in his locker. That’s all I want to take.”

Sonny took the silver St. Christopher medal out of the box, handing it to Vinnie. “Put it on. Leave the box.”

Vinnie put the necklace over his head, then lifted the charm and looked at it.

“Fitting,” Sonny said, “that he’s the patron saint of travelers.”

Vinnie smiled.

“And it’s even more fitting that he was reputed to have once served the devil.” Sonny grinned, turning to go.

Vinnie smacked him on the backside as they left the room.

“I have a gold one just like it my father gave me,” Sonny was saying as they entered the elevator.

“I saw it on your dresser,” Vinnie admitted.

Sonny just smiled and nodded.

 

Vinnie told his mother, “Whatever happens, do not believe what you read in the papers.”

After she questioned and admonished him for some time, but getting no more details or answers, she finally agreed, and told him she trusted him and loved him.

The more difficult phone call was left to make. He sat in the limo and used the car phone, as per Sonny’s instructions. He wanted the call traced back to there if it was traced at all. He dialed Frank’s number and listened to the ring. “Yeah,” said a voice.

“Frank.”

“Vince?”

“You want Patrice?”

“What’s going on,” Frank said in his usual bored tone. But Vinnie could tell Frank was listening intently.

“I’ve already called 911. Patrice has Sonny. It’s a nightclub called Players in NYC. There’s a room in the back. An unused office. I’m calling from the car phone. After I hang up, I’m going in after him.”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

Vinnie hung up.

Sonny winked at him. Then they got out of the limo and walked straight into the airport.

 

The driver of the limo had had specific instructions to leave the car parked at the far end of the Player’s lot. Sonny had paid him handsomely to abandon it there.

Now they were in the air. In the overhead compartment above their seats was their future. Together they would find it.

 

The headlines read: STEELGRAVE DISAPPEARANCE STILL UNSOLVED. And: REPUTED GANG LEADER STEELGRAVE AND SOLDIER FEARED DEAD. And: REPUTED NYC MOB KING PATRICE INDICTED FOR MURDER, NO BODIES FOUND YET. And: EVIDENCE FOUND IN PATRICE NIGHTCLUB LEADS TO MURDER CHARGE.

Vinnie got his hands on as many papers as he could over the next few weeks. When he read the stories, he felt strangely vindicated, and finally safe. The evidence, even without bodies, was good. They found in and around the nightclub grounds, his tie, (the tie he’d lost that first night in Sonny’s penthouse,) and his socks. They found one of Sonny’s handkerchiefs with Vinnie’s blood on it. (“From the cut on your forehead,” Sonny had explained.) They found one of Sonny’s fine diamond rings on the hand of one of Patrice’s goons. And there was so much more. Here and there were things of theirs they were known to wear often, but not too many things so it looked planted. Just random scraps, fingerprints, and random jewels greedy men might steal. It was enough to convict.

Of course the trial would not happen for a year or more, but the judge was harsh. Pat the Cat received no bail. He wasn’t going anywhere soon.

“I hope they give him the chair,” Sonny said.

“It’s tough to get a death sentence on circumstantial,” Vinnie replied.

“I wonder what poor whiny Sid’s gonna do now.”

 

DECEMBER, 1988

 

In Costa Rica they had leased a nice house on the edge of a semi-private cove. The more public beaches and surfing beaches lay to the south so only the occasional beachcomber came within sight of them. For the first time they felt relatively safe.

For the first couple of months, they rarely left the house except for food and necessities. Sonny was paranoid that they might have been followed. But there were other reasons, too. For one, they simply could not keep their hands off each other. Their bodies burned with an inner heat that would not abate. They found relief only in each other, and only for short periods before it returned full force and they would move together again like two desperate wrestlers vying for a grand prize.

Sometimes Vinnie found himself wondering how long this would last. He did not question the depths of their feelings at all. It wasn’t that. But he did sometimes find himself watching Sonny carefully, waiting for the nature of the man to reassert itself, grow bored, and look for ways to manipulate power again in all the wrong places. Sonny was not used to a quiet life. He was not accustomed to actual relaxation. Take the element of danger away, or underworld problem-solving, and he was left restless with only Vinnie as anchor. Vinnie noticed it in his sudden tempers. The tempers were never turned on Vinnie himself, he was the exception and he knew it, but Sonny had been known to kick a faulty dishwasher until he couldn’t stand, or shatter a TV because he didn’t like what it was reporting, or punch a wall because of some bad news he’d garnered about another piece of his former business in Atlantic City going under.

Vinnie asked him once, after only a few weeks away, if he had any regrets. Before answering, Sonny had fidgeted a little, nervously bouncing his knees. “I regret that the world is full of incompetent people that let everything fall apart because I’m not there.” Then he looked up and said, softer, “But no, not really. I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew I’d die young. And now…now I’m exactly where I want to be.” He looked down. “Do you have regrets?” he asked.

Vinnie shook his head. He knew he had been done with all of the Federal agent stuff as soon as he’d told Sonny the truth. His confrontation with Frank had cinched it. Then a sudden thought occurred. “I do regret leaving behind one thing.”

“What?”

“That fine shower of yours.”

Their house was white with big glass windows that faced the little cove. On it was a dock and with the dock came a run-down sailboat. It was maybe 18 feet long with a tiny little cabin, and a cockpit that might fit four people comfortably at the stern. It was completely non-seaworthy, a wreck, and the hull covered with barnacles, but sometimes they would take a cooler full of beer and go down there and sit. Sometimes they talked about fixing it up but neither of them knew anything about boats.

Close to Christmas, one afternoon just before sunset, they sat facing each other in the sailboat cockpit balancing beers on their chests.

Vinnie stared unabashedly at Sonny. Sonny’s dark bangs had grown very long and spilled into his eyes making him look more boyish. Away from the stresses of the city and its underworld, Vinnie noticed that Sonny actually looked years younger now.

Sonny pushed his sunglasses back on the top of his head and returned Vinnie’s gaze. For long minutes they never moved. Vinnie remembered Sonny telling him he didn’t like Vinnie looking at him because he felt like he was accusing him of something. But now Sonny never minded. It was as if they were seeing in each other’s eyes all the possibilities of what might have been if they had not found each other, if they had not escaped. This staring contest made Vinnie feel impossibly frantic for a moment, but he said nothing. Instead, he lifted his beer and drank.

Sonny spoke low. “How in all the nine levels of Hell did we manage to end up here?” He threw his empty beer bottle toward the cooler but did not grab another.

Finally, Sonny looked away. He tilted his head face up to the sky, lifted his arms straight over his head and let out a powerful yell. It echoed over the water and seemed to fill the sky. When he was out of breath, he let his arms fall and his head tilted forward. He met Vinnie’s questioning eyes with a grin, then heavily sighed. “God help me, Vincenzo, I want you all the time.”

Vinnie scowled, got up and went to sit next to him. Playfully, he thumped the side of his knee against Sonny’s over and over. Vinnie felt exactly the same but he didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

The sun was finally setting. The sky was hot pink, florid orange, desperate purple. The huge fiery orb turned red, then sank in the wide expanse of the crystal blue sea.

When the show was over, Sonny stood, offering his hand to Vinnie. “Come on. I’m starved. Let’s go home.”

Vinnie took his hand and pulled himself upright. Then they climbed out of the cockpit and headed up the small dock to the beach.

 

JUNE, 1989

 

“Hand me that thing there, would ya?”

“What thing?”

“That.”

“What?”

Sonny gave up and stepped over the deck of the boat and onto the dock. There was a toolbox sitting there. He dug around in it and finally picked up a wrench.

They had been sort of working on the boat for awhile now. Neither of them really knew what they were doing, but it was fun. And it got them outdoors.

Vinnie opened a cooler only to find it empty except for ice.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get us some more beers.”

“Ok,” Sonny said, not looking back.

Vinnie walked down the small dock and stepped onto the white beach. Waves lapped gently. The sun was gold. A breeze blew salt brine scent and seagull cries all around him. He felt relaxed and good.

He checked the pockets of his shorts to make sure he had money. The bar was up the beach a ways and he didn’t want to get there, find out he had no cash, and have to go all the way back to the house. He found a couple twenties and some change and was just folding it to put it back in his pocket when a voice said, “Vincent?”

He felt a prickle on his neck, and a chill. No one called him that. Not anymore.

He turned quickly on the stranger, saying, “My name is Angelo.”

There stood Frank McPike. Beside him stood a boy of about ten. Frank’s jaw dropped and he did a double take. “Oh my God.”

Vinnie’s heart started to pound. Patrice had not even had his trial yet. It had only been nine months. And now they’d been found.

The boy beside him said, “Do you know this man, Dad?”

Frank’s breathing had turned into a bit of a wheeze. Shakily, he said, “Yeah, son, yeah. He was a colleague of mine once.”

The boy came forward. “Hi, I’m Drake.”

Vinnie shook the boy’s hand. “Angelo,” he repeated softly.

“Drake,” Frank said. “Go find your mom.”

“Ok.” The boy was off, kicking up sand as he went running up the beach with his arms spread, his head back.

The two men stood, still staring at each other, seemingly at a loss for words. Vinnie’s mind spun. Now they’d have to move again. They always knew they weren’t going to stay in one place forever, but he hadn’t thought about moving again yet. They’d talked about eventually going to Italy, but not anytime soon.

Vinnie swallowed dryly. “How are you, Frank?”

He was still shaking his head disbelief. “Ah, I do ok. But I thought you were dead.”

“I told you I’d give you Patrice.” Vinnie turned as he heard footsteps wandering up the dock. Sonny wore long, white linen slacks, thick leather sandals, and a short-sleeved, stormy blue, button up shirt with only the bottom two buttons fastened. He was very dark from the sun. His normally dark brown hair had highlights now of gold and bronze. They matched the flash of gold from the Rolex watch on his wrist. He never had been a slob and his fondness for nice things was a habit he could not break.

By contrast, Vinnie wore loose shorts and a black tank two sizes too big. He stood barefoot. The only jewelry he wore was the silver St. Christopher’s medal. The Costa Rican sun had turned his skin the color of milk chocolate.

He had hoped that Sonny would stay hidden. But Sonny had his own ideas.

Vinnie turned back to Frank, watching Frank’s eyes. Frank showed no reaction now. He always was a cool customer.

“Mr. McPike,” Sonny said. “I didn’t know you vacationed in Costa Rica.”

“I have been here once before.”

“Well. Fancy meeting you here. Tell me, are you testifying in Patrice’s trial?” Leave it to Sonny, Vinnie thought, to out-cool Frank.

“I am.”

Sonny nodded. “Interesting. I wonder what you are going to say?”

“The truth of course,” Frank replied.

“Really?” Sudden sarcasm tainted Sonny’s tone. “The truth? That’s great. Haven’t you been looking for him all this time? To take him back?”

“I’m just visiting.”

“Are you really here alone with no one else around to back you up?”

“I’m on vacation with my family.”

“Unarmed?”

Vinnie turned to look back at Sonny. Had that been a threat? He hadn’t seen that side of him in awhile now, but there it was, edgy, dangerous, a shark about to strike. He’d been wondering when this moment might come. “Sonny, stop!”

But Sonny took a step forward. “Frank McPike. OCB. Mr. Big himself. Here all alone with his family and unarmed.”

“When did he tell you he was a cop?” Frank asked calmly, not budging.

Sonny’s laugh was cold. A sly look, the look of old times, returned to his eyes. “When do you think?”

Vinnie moved between them. “Just stop it. Both of you!”

Together they turned to look at him. “Well, what do you want to do, Vinnie? Do you really trust him not to ruin everything?” Sonny asked.

Vinnie stared at Sonny. He didn’t judge him. He didn’t try to convince himself that Sonny could be anyone but who he was. He just said one word. “Don’t.”

“Honestly,” Frank said. “I thought you were both dead.”

Vinnie turned to Frank. “I believe you.”

Sonny was glaring at Frank again.

“Is he always like that, so paranoid, so clingy?” Frank asked Vinnie.

Vinnie suppressed a smile. “Sometimes.”

Sonny grunted in exasperation mumbling, “It’s not like I don’t have good reason,” and turned his back on them. He kicked at the sand with his foot, back and forth.

“I am glad you’re alive,” Frank finally said.

“Are you?”

“Of course. You were one of the best. You’re a good man, Vince. I don’t think I ever got to tell you that after… after….”

“But you thought I was so lost.”

Frank glanced at Sonny. “At first. But it looks like maybe you’re not so lost after all. You look great. Healthy.”

Vinnie nodded.

Frank shook his head, a caged smile playing at his lips. “This is really weird. I thought I was seeing a ghost. It really is good to see you alive.”

“Thanks.”

Then Frank stepped forward and gave him a hug. Sonny turned with a scowl on his face and sighed very loudly. When Frank stepped back, he said to Sonny in his firm nasal tone, “The only reason you’re not doing life in prison or pushing up daisies right now is because of him, you know.”

Sonny fidgeted some more in the sand with his foot.

“He saved your ass.”

Looking up coolly, Sonny said, “When I got our new i.d.s, why else do you think I named him Angel?”

“It’s Angelo,” Vinnie protested firmly, but he was smiling still.

Frank turned. “Jesus, I can’t believe I ran into you. Here.” He gestured toward the white beach and the blue, lapping water. He shook his head as if he still could not believe it. “What are the odds?”

“And you really didn’t come here looking?” Vinnie had to ask. Sonny looked smug at that question.

“They’re all still looking for bodies. I swear it, Vince.”

Vinnie traded glances with Sonny. “We did good,” he said.

“An iron-clad frame if I ever saw one,” Frank complimented. He glanced again at Sonny. Frowned. Without looking away from Sonny, he said carefully, “If you ever need anything, Vince. Ever. I mean it! Call me.”

Sonny stared at Frank through half-closed eyes. Vinnie watched the by-play. If Frank was distrustful of Sonny, it was because Sonny showed only the side of himself that gave Frank good reason. Frank did not know the man Vinnie knew. Vinnie thought that probably no one did. All Frank could envision was Sonny the bully, the mob-king, the gangster. Back in the interrogation room nine months ago, it was what had made him ask Vinnie if Sonny had caused the bruises on his body. Frank couldn’t know for sure then if Vinnie hadn’t become another of this dangerous man’s victims.

But now? Hadn’t he noticed Sonny back down with one word from Vinnie? And that damned ‘Angel’ comment. He was doing just fine, thank you very much. He shifted his bare feet in the thick sand. “I guarantee you, Frank, I won’t have to. I have everything I need.”

Frank nodded. “Ok, then.”

There was a small awkward silence.

Then Frank turned slightly. “All right. You take care. I really missed you, you know.”

“I’ve thought about you, too,” Vinnie replied.

Frank sighed loudly. “All right. Well, bye, Vince. Have a good life.”

“Bye, Frank. You, too.”

Taking his time, Frank McPike walked down the beach in the direction his son had gone, slowly, leisurely.

Vinnie watched him go. After a moment, Sonny came up alongside him, following his gaze. “I still don’t like him. He was mean to you.”

“You’re gonna leave him alone.” It was not a question.

“Ok. Hey.” Sonny put his hands out and shrugged. “Don’t be pissed.”

Vinnie looked at him, assessing. Sonny was a shark. Maybe he’d tamed him a little, but you never fully tamed anything wild. That sly look of Sonny’s had come back so fast. It was gone again now, but this wasn’t going to be the only time he would see it. He knew he was Sonny’s conscience and always would be.

“I’m not pissed,” Vinnie said. “Much.” He turned and walked barefoot through the thick sand back toward the beach and the bar in the distance.

Sonny moved into line with him, stepping through drifts of sand that tugged at his shoes. He said, “See, I wanted to kill him and I didn’t. Don’t I get points for that?”

“Yeah.” Vinnie clapped him on the back. “Yeah, you get points for that.”

“So where’re we going?”

“To the bar. I’m going to buy you a drink.”

Sonny laughed. It was a good laugh, the laugh Vinnie had fallen in love with. “I know first hand what happens when a guy lets you buy him a drink, Vinnie. But I could use one right about now. Let’s go.”

Side by side, they slogged through the sand under the bright Costa Rican sun. The waves lapped the shore. The ocean was blue and sparkly. Birds circled lazily over their heads. Behind them, in the world they’d left, huge cities still stood teeming with shadows and light dancing and cavorting in the eternal drama of right and wrong, good and evil, righteous and damned. They might never fully escape it, but ahead of them lay blank white sands, trade winds that shifted with every hour and could take them on any journey of their choosing. The world was so much bigger now. And they counted themselves two of the luckiest individuals on Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> Three of my favorite quotes from those who actually worked on Wiseguy:
> 
> “In setting it up, I wanted the emotional attachment between them to be very strong. The idea was that they were the same guy only they were wearing different hats.”
> 
> \-- Stephen J. Cannell, creator of Wiseguy, re: Sonny Steelgrave and Vincent Terranova
> 
>  
> 
> “In the relationship between the two of them, Sonny was pure and Vinnie was the deceiver, and that, for me, was the series. What was really happening here was a guy who loved this other guy so much. Sonny had lost his brother; he embraced a surrogate brother and was blind to Brutus. He’d fallen in love with his betrayer.”
> 
> \-- Eric Blakely, story editor season one, Wiseguy
> 
>  
> 
> “To extend the story line would have been to diminish Vinnie as a character. If we had stayed with Steelgrave, Vinnie would have had to leave the OCB and become a hood, which would certainly change the show.”
> 
> \-- David Burke, creative partner, on extending the Steelgrave arc for one year because of good ratings, and where the character of Vinnie was ultimately headed  
> *  
> If you enjoyed this work by Natasha Solten, you may also enjoy her m/m romances on Kindle under her non-fanfic name: Wendy Rathbone. Look for "The Foundling," "The Secret Sharer" and the soon to be released "None Can Hold the Dark" (due in fall 2013.) She also has an sf novel out, and a collection of poetry.


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